the soldier's return
air—“the mill, mill, o.”
when wild war's deadly bst was bwn,
ale peace returning,
wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
and mony a widow m;
i left the lines aed field,
where ng i'd been a lodger,
my humble knapsack a' my wealth,
a poor and ho sodger.
a leal, light heart was in my breast,
my hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
and for fair scotia hame again,
i cheery on did wander:
i thought upon the banks o' coil,
i thought upon my nancy,
i thought upog smile
that caught my youthful fancy.
at length i reach'd the bonie glen,
where early life i sported;
i pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
where nancy aft i courted:
ied i but my ain dear maid,
down by her mother's dwelling!
and turn'd me round to hide the flood
that in my een was swelling.
wi' alter'd voice, "h i, “sweet ss,
sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
o! happy, happy may he be,
that's dearest to thy bosom:
my purse is light, i've far to gang,
and fain would be thy lodger;
i've serv'd my king and try ng—
take pity on a sodger.”
sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
and lovelier was than ever;
quo' she, “a sodger ance i lo'ed,
fet him shall i never:
our humble cot, and hamely fare,
ye freely shall partake it;
that galnt badge—the dear cockade,
ye're wele for the sake o't.”
she gaz'd—she redden'd like a rose—
syne pale like only lily;
she sank within my arms, and cried,
“art thou my ain dear willie?”
“by him who made yon sun and sky!
by whom true love's regarded,
i am the man; and thus may still
true lovers be rewarded.
“the wars are o'er, and i'm e hame,
and find thee still true-hearted;
tho' poor in gear, we're ri love,
and mair we'se ne'er be parted.”
quo' she, “my grandsire left me gowd,
a mailen plenish'd fairly;
and e, my faithfu' sodger d,
thou'rt wele to it dearly!”
fold the mert ploughs the main,
the farmer ploughs the manor;
but glory is the sodger's prize,
the sodgerpppp's wealth is honor:
the brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
nor t him as a stranger;
remember he's his try's stay,
in day and hour of danger.