John Stuart Blackie

The Old Soldier of the Gareloch Head

I ’VE wandered east and west,
  And a soldier I ha’e been;
The scars upon my breast
  Tell the wars that I have seen.
But now I ’m old and worn,
  And my locks are thinly spread,
And I ’m come to die in peace
  By the Gareloch Head.

When I was young and strong,
  Oft a wandering I would go
By the rough shores of Loch Long,
  Up to lone Glencroe.
But now I ’m fain to rest,
  And my resting-place I ’ve made
On the green and gentle bosom
  Of the Gareloch Head.

’T was here my Jeanie grew,
  Like a lamb amid the flocks,
With her eyes of bonnie blue,
  And her gowden locks.	
And here we often met,
  When with lightsome foot we sped
O’er the green and grassy knolls
  At the Gareloch Head.

’T was here she pined and died,—
  O, the salt tear in my ee
Forbids my heart to hide
  What Jeanie was to me!
’T was here my Jeanie died,
  And they scooped her lowly bed
’Neath the green and grassy turf
  At the Gareloch Head.

Like a leaf in leafy June
  From the leafy forest torn,
She fell, and I ’ll fall soon,
  Like a sheaf of yellow corn.
For I ’m sere and weary now,
  And I soon shall make my bed
With my Jeanie, ’neath the turf
  At the Gareloch Head.