Th M A L（1 / 1）

the strel at lcden

tune—“cunock psals”

as i stood by yon roofless tower,

where the wa&039;flow&039;r scents the dery air,

where the howlet ourns her ivy bower,

and tells the idnight oon her care

chor—a ssie all alone, was akg her oan,

ntg our ds beyond the sea:

the bidy wars they fa&039;, and our honour&039;s gane an&039; a&039;,

and broken-hearted we aun die

the ds were id, the air was till,

the stars they shot along the sky;

the tod was howlg on the hill,

and the distant-echog glens reply

a ssie all alone, c

the burn, adown its hazelly path,

was rhg by the ru&039;d wa&039;,

hastg to jo the sweepg nith,

whase roargs see&039;d to rise and fa&039;

a ssie all alone, c

the cauld be north was streag forth

her lights, wi&039; hissg, eerie d,

athort the lift they start and shift,

like fortune&039;s favours, tt as

a ssie all alone, c

now, lookg over firth and fauld,

her horn the pale-faced cynthia rear&039;d,

when lo! for of strel auld,

a stern and stalwart ghaist appear&039;d

a ssie all alone, c

and frae his harp sic stras did flow,

ight ro&039;d the sberg dead to hear;

but oh, it was a tale of woe,

as ever t a briton&039;s ear!

a ssie all alone, c

he sang wi&039; joy his forr day,

he, weepg, wail&039;d his tter tis;

but what he said—it was nae py,

i na venture&039;t y rhys

a ssie all alone, c