Traditional Songs from Scotland




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Of Thee I Dream

Horo, my cailin, of thee I dream
My cailin, dear cailin, of thee I dream
My own, my cailin, throughout the years
Dark is my pathway, bedimmed with tears.

I rose up early, ere dawn of day
And cut me the yarrow mid new-mown hay
To see by its magic my true-love dear
Alas I saw her, she turned from me.

O had I like others the strength of youth
My hound to follow, my path were smooth
Oh stark and grim is the fight I'd make
Ere I'd let man living my true-love take.

No lark is there in the meadows nigh
Nor bird in the forest that hears my sigh
But mourns now with me, both night and day
Since I and my true-love are parted, for aye.

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