The American Songster, Song

O Sandy, why leav'st thou thy Nelly to mourn? Thy presence could ease me, When neathing can please me; Now dowie I sigh on the banks of the burn, Or thro' the wood, laddie, until thou return.

Tho' woods now are bonny, and mornings are clear, While lav'rocks are singing, And primroses springing Yet nane of them pleases mine eye or mine car, When thro' the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.

That I am forsaken, some spare not to tell; I am fash'd wi' their scorning, Baith ev'ning and morning, Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell, When thro' the wood, laddie, I wander mysell.

Then stay, my dear Sandy, nae longer away; But quick as an arrow, Haste here to thy marrow, Wha's living in languor till that happy day, When thro' the wood, laddie, we'll dance, sing, and play.