| |
| SHE ’s gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, | |
| She ’s gane to dwall in heaven; | |
| Ye ’re ower pure, quoth the voice of God, | |
| For dwalling out of heaven! | |
| |
| O what ’ll she do in heaven, my lassie? | 5 |
| O what ’ll she do in heaven?— | |
| She ’ll mix her ain thoughts with angels’ sangs, | |
| An’ make them mair meet for heaven. | |
| |
| Low there thou lies, my lassie, | |
| Low there thou lies; | 10 |
| A bonnier form ne’er went to the yird, | |
| Nor frae it will arise! | |
| |
| Fu’ soon I ’ll follow thee, lassie. | |
| Fu’ soon I ’ll follow thee; | |
| Thou left me nought to covet ahin’, | 15 |
| But took gudness’ self wi’ thee. | |
| |
| I looked on thy death-cold face, my lassie, | |
| I looked on thy death-cold face; | |
| Thou seemed a lilie new cut i’ the bud, | |
| An’ fading in its place. | 20 |
| |
| I looked on thy death-shut eye, my lassie, | |
| I looked on thy death-shut eye; | |
| An’ a lovelier light in the brow of heaven | |
| Fell time shall ne’er destroy. | |
| |
| Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie, | 25 |
| Thy lips were ruddy and calm; | |
| But gane was the holy breath of heaven | |
| To sing the evening psalm. | |
| |
| There ’s nought but dust now mine, lassie, | |
| There ’s nought but dust now mine; | 30 |
| My saul ’s wi’ thee in the cauld grave, | |
| An’ why should I stay behin’? | |
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