Джон Кроуфорд (John Crawford)

* * *

SING on, fairy Devon,
’Mong gardens and bowers,
Where love’s feast lies spread
In an Eden o’ flowers.
What visions o’ beauty
My mind has possessed,
In thy gowany dell
Where a seraph might rest.

Sing on, lovely river,
To hillock and tree
A lay o’ the loves
O’ my Jessie an’ me;
For nae angel lightin’,
A posie to pu’,
Can match the fair form	
O’ the lassie I lo’e.

Sweet river, dear river,
Sing on in your glee,
In thy pure breast the mind
O’ my Jessie I see.
How aft ha’e I wandered,
As gray gloamin’ fell,
Rare dreamins o’ heaven
My lassie to tell.

Sing on, lovely Devon,
The sang that ye sung
When earth in her beauty
Frae night’s bosom sprung,
For lanesome and eerie
This warld aye would be
Did clouds ever fa’
Atween Jessie and me.

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