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George MacDonald - O Lassie Ayont The Hill!
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O lassie ayont the hill,
Come ower the tap o` the hill,
Come ower the tap wi` the breeze o` the hill,
Bidena ayont the hill!
I`m needin ye sair the nicht,
For I`m tired and sick o` mysel.
A body`s sel `s the sairest weicht:
O lassie, come ower the hill!

Gien a body could be a thoucht o` grace,
And no a sel ava!
I`m sick o` my heid and my ban`s and my face,
O` my thouchts and mysel and a`;

I`m sick o` the warl` and a`;
The win` gangs by wi` a hiss;
Throu my starin een the sunbeams fa`
But my weary hert they miss!
O lassie ayont the hill,
Come ower the tap o` the hill,
Come ower the tap wi` the breeze o` the hill,
Bidena ayont the hill! &c.

For gien I but saw yer bonnie heid,
And the sunlicht o` yer hair,
The ghaist o` mysel wud fa` doun deid,
I wud be mysel nae mair.
I wud be mysel nae mair,
Filled o` the sole remeid,
Slain by the arrows o` licht frae yer hair,
Killed by yer body and heid!
O lassie ayont the hill, &c.

My sel micht wauk up at the saft fitfa`
O` my bonnie departin dame;
But gien she lo`ed me ever sae sma`
I micht bide it—the weary same!
Noo, sick o` my body and name
Whan it lifts its upsettin heid,
I turn frae the cla`es that cover my frame
As gien they war roun the deid.
O lassie ayont the hill, &c.

But gien ye lo`ed me as I lo`e you
I wud ring my ain deid knell;
The spectre wud melt, shot through and through
Wi` the shine o` your sunny sel!
By the shine o` yer sunny sel,
By the licht aneth yer broo
I wud dee to mysel, ring my ain deid-bell,
And live again in you!

O lassie ayont the hill,
Come ower the tap o` the hill,
Come ower the tap wi` the breeze o` the hill,
For I want ye sair the nicht!
I`m needin ye sair the nicht,
For I`m tired and sick o` mysel.
A body`s sel `s the sairest weicht:
O lassie, come ower the hill!
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