Poor Little Jessie

O What gart me greet when I parted wi Willie,
While at his guid fortune ilk ane was sae fain ?

The neighbours upbraidit an' said it was silly,
When I was sae soon to see Willie again.

He gae me his hand as we gaed to the river,
For O, he was aye a kind brother to me :
Right sair was my heart frae my Willie to sever,
An' saut was the dew-drop that smartit my ee.

It wasna the kiss that he gae me at parting,
Nor yet the kind squeeze that he gae to my hand,
It wasna the tear frae his blue eye was starting.

As slow they war shoving the boat frae the land :
The tear that I saw owre his bonnie cheek straying,
It pleased me indeed, but it doubled my pain ;
For something within me was constantly saying,
" Ah, Jessie, ye'll never see Willie again !"

The bairn's unco wae to be taen frae its mother,
The wee bird is wae when bereaved o' its young,
But O, to be reft of a dear only brother —
That feeling can neither be paintit nor sung.

I dreamed a' the night that my Willie was wi' me,
Sae kind to his Jessie, at meeting sae fain,
An' just at the dawning a friend came to see me,
An' taul me I never wad see him again,
I hae naebody now to look kind an' caress me ;
I look for a friend, but nae friend can I see ;
I dinna ken what's to become o' poor Jessie,
The warld has little mair pleasure for me.
It's lang sin' I lost baith my father and mother,
I'm simple an' poor an' forlorn on the way ;
I had ane that I likit, an only dear brother,
My Willie — but he's lying cauld i' the clay.