Poems and Songs, Scotch and English
MacLaggan, Alexander
Published 1841
My ain countrie
How are ye a' at hame
In my ain countrie?
Are your kind hearts aye the same
In my ain countrie?
Are ye aye as fu' o' glee,
As witty, frank, and free,
As kind's ye used to be,
In my ain countrie?
Oh! a coggie I will fill
To my ain countrie!
Ay, and toom it wi' good will
To my ain countrie!
Here's to a' the folk I ken,
'Mang the lasses and the men,
In ilk canty but an' ben
O' my ain countrie!
Heaven watch thou ever o'er
My ain countrie!
Let tyrants never more
Rule my ain countrie!
May her heroes, dear to thee—
The bauld hearts and the free—
Be ready aye to dee
For my ain countrie!
May a blessin' light on a'
In my ain countrie!
Baith the great folk and the sma',
In my ain countrie!
On whatever sod I kneel,
Heaven knows I ever feel
For the honour and the weal
O' my ain countrie!
O gin I were.
O! gin I were the balmy sleep
That saftly seals young Phœbe's e'e,
When, soothed by slumbers warm and deep,
Sic visions in her dreams wad be
As angels might be blythe to see.
Then I would ope my aching heart,
My aching heart, that Phœbe fair
Might see in every troubled part
Her own sweet image smiling there,
Like sunshine on a cloud of care.
Phœbe Graeme.
Arise, my faithfu' Phoebe Graeme!
I grieve to see ye sit
Sae laigh upon your creepy stool,
In sic a dorty fit!
A reamin' cog's a wilin' rogue;
But, by my vows sincere,
Ilk smilin' cup, by mirth flll'd up,
Was drained wi' friends lang dear.
Ye needna turn your tearfu' e'e
Sae aften on the clock;
I ken the short han' frae the lang
As weel as wiser folk.
Let hoary time, wi' bleth'rin' chime,
Taunt on—nae wit has he!
Nae spell-spun hour—nae wilin' power,
Can win my heart frae thee.
Oh, weel ye ken, dear Phoebe Graeme!
Sin' we, 'maist bairns, wed,
That, torn by poortith's iron teeth,
My heart has aft times bled:—
Fortune, the jaud, for a' she had,
Doled me but feckless blanks;
But bless'd wi' thee, and love, and glee,
I scorn her partial pranks.
As drumlie clouds o'er summer skies
Let anger's shadows flit!
There's days o' peace, and nights o' joy,
To pass between us yet!
For I do swear to thee, my fair,
Till life's last pulse be o'er,
Till light depart, my faithfu' heart
Shall love thee more and more!
Fair be thy fa'! my Phoebe Graeme!
Enraptured now I see
The smile upon thy bonnie face,
Whilk wont to welcome me.
Grant me the bliss o' ae fond kiss,
Ae kind forgi'ein' blink
O' thy true love, and I will prove
Far wiser than ye think!
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