Thy songs were made for the brave and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"

_Thomas Moore_.




ON THE BANKS OF ALLAN WATER.


On the banks of Allan Water,
When the sweet Springtime did fall,
Was the miller's lovely daughter,
The fairest of them all.
For his bride a soldier sought her,
And a winning tongue had he:
On the banks of Allan Water,
None so gay as she.

On the banks of Allan Water,
When brown Autumn spreads its store,
Then I saw the miller's daughter,
But she smiled no more;
For the Summer grief had brought her,
And the soldier false was he;
On the banks of Allan Water,
None so sad as she.

On the banks of Allan Water,