| When wild war’s deadly blast was blawn and gentle peace returning
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| Wi' mony a sweet babe faitherless and mony a widow mourning
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| I left the lines and tented field where lang I’d been a lodger
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| My humble knapsack all my wealth, a poor and honest soldier
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| A leal licht heart was in my breast, my hand unstained wi' plunder
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| And for fair Scotia hame again I cheery on did wander
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| I thocht upon the banks o' Coil, I thocht upon my Nancy
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| And aye I minded the witching smile that caught my youthful fancy
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| At length I reached the bonnie glen where early life I sported
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| I passed the mill and trysting thorn where Nancy oft I courted
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| Wha spied I but my ain dear maid down by her mother’s dwelling
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| And turned me round to hide the flood that in my een was swelling
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| She gazed, she redden’d like a rose syne pale like ony lily
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| She sank within my arms and cried «Art thou my ain dear Willie?»
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| «By him who made yon sun and sky, by whom true love’s regarded,
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| I am the man and thus may still true lovers be rewarded.»
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| «The wars are owre and I’ve come hame and find thee still true hearted
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| Tho poor in gear we’re rich in love and mair we’se ne’er be parted.»
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| Quoth she «My grandsire left me gowd a mailin plenished fairly
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| And come my faithfu' sodger lad, you’re welcome tae it dearly.» |