Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean,
Where heartsome with thee I've mony day been;
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more,
These tears that I shed, they are a' for my dear,
And no' for the dangers attending on wear,
Tho' borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.
Tho' hurricanes rise, an' rise
every wind,
They'll ne'er mak' a tempest like that in my mind;
Tho' loudest o' thunders on louder waves roar,
That's naething like leaving my love on the shore -
To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain'd;
By ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd;
An' beauty an' love's the reward o' the brave,
An' I must deserve it before I can crave.
Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead
my excuse;
Since honour commands me, how can I refuse?
Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee,
An' without thy favour I'd better not be.
I gae, then, my lass, to win honour an' fame,
An' if I should luck to come gloriously hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee wi' love running o'er,
An' then I'll leave thee an' Lochaber no more. |
