O Helen fair beyond compare!
I'll mak' a garland o' thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I dee!
O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, 'Haste, and come to me!'
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirkconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my e'en,
And I in Helen's arms lying
On fair Kirkconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries,
And I am weary of the skies
For her sake that died for me.
XXXII
THE TWA CORBIES
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane:
The tane unto the tither say,
'Where sall we gang and dine the day?'
'In behint yon auld fail dyke
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.
His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet.
Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en:
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
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