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But now your brow is bald, John,
John Anderson my jo, John,
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.
JHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
And mony a widow mourning,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
A poor but honest sodger.
A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder ;
I cheerily did wander..
I thought upon my Nancy,
That pleased my youthful fancy.
Wi' alter'd voice quoth I, “Sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, Oh, happy, happy may he be
That's dearest to thy bosom!
And fain wad be thy lodger ;
Take pity on a sodger."
Sae wistfully she gazed on me,
And lovelier was than ever :
Forget him shall I never ;
Ye freely shall partake o't;
Ye're welcome for the sake o't !”
She gazed—she redden'd like a rose
Syne pale like ony lily!
“ Art thou my ain dear Willie ?”
By whom true love's regarded,
True lovers be rewarded.
“ The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted; Though poor in gear, we're rich in love ;
And mair, we'se ne'er be parted.”
A mailen plenish'd fairly;
Thou’rt welcome to it dearly!”
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor ; But glory is the sodger's prize,
The sodger's wealth is honour.
(CHARLES DIBDin was born in Southampton in the year 1745. He was intended for the Church, but his love of music caused him to relinquish all thoughts of the clerical profession. In 1762, he appeared on the boards of Richmond Theatre, but he did not excel as an actor, though his light dramatic pieces and musical compositions were eminently successful. His spirit-stirring sea-songs were very popular. For some time he enjoyed from Government a pension of 2001. a-year, but on a change of ministry he lost it. Such were his improvident habits, that, had it not been for his friends, who purchased for him an annuity, he would have been plunged in the direst poverty. He died in the year 1814.]
Co, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,
U 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
Though the tempest top-gallant masts smack smooth should
smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the deck, stow the yards, and bouse everything tight,
And under reefd foresail we'll scud :
To be taken for trifles aback;
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack !
About souls, heaven, mercy, and such ;