Sing On.

Sing on, tha bonny burd, sing on, sing on;

Aw cannot sing;

A claad hings ovver me, do what aw con

Fresh troubles spring.

Aw wish aw could, like thee, fly far away,

Aw'd leave mi cares an be a burd to-day.

Mi heart war once as full o' joy as thine,

But nah it's sad;

Aw thowt all th' happiness i'th' world wor mine,

Sich faith aw had;—

But he who promised aw should be his wife

Has robb'd me o' mi ivery joy i' life.

Sing on: tha cannot cheer me wi' thi song;

Yet, when aw hear

Thi warblin' voice, 'at rings soa sweet an' strong,

Aw feel a tear

Roll daan mi cheek, 'at gives mi heart relief,

A gleam o' comfort, but it's varry brief.

This little darlin', cuddled to mi breast,

It little knows,

When snoozlin' soa quietly at rest,

'At all mi woes

Are smothered thear, an' mi poor heart ud braik

But just aw live for mi wee laddie's sake.

Sing on; an' if tha e'er should chonce to see

That faithless swain,

Whose falsehood has caused all mi misery,

Strike up thy strain,

An' if his heart yet answers to thy trill

Fly back to me, an' aw will love him still.

But if he heeds thee not, then shall aw feel

All hope is o'er,

An' he that aw believed an' loved soa weel

Be loved noa more;

For that hard heart, bird music cannot move,

Is far too cold a dwellin'-place for love.