o were my love yon lc fair

air—“hughie graham.”

o were my love yon lc fair,

wi' purple blossoms to the spring,

and i, a bird to shelter there,

when wearied on my little wing!

how i wad mourn when it was torn

by autumn wild, and winter rude!

but i wad sing on wanton wing,

when youthfu' may its bloom renew'd.