Song: “A weary lot is thine, fair maid”

“a Weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine! A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green— No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. “The morn is merry June, I trow— The rose is budding fain; But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again.” He turned his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore; He gave his bridle-rein a shake, Said, “Adieu for evermore, My love! And adieu for evermore.”

Collection: 
English
1791
Sir Walter Scott
Sub Title: 
I. Disappointment in Love

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