X: 1
T: CAPTAIN O'KAINE
O: 1806
B: "Caledonian Musical Repository", 1806, p.112-115
F: http://digital.nls.uk/special-collections-of-printed-music/pageturner.cfm?id=87661539
Z: 2013 John Chambers <jc:trillian.mit.edu>
M: 6/8
L: 1/16
K: Bm
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(BA) | F2 B2 c2 d4 c B |
w: Row* saft-ly, thou stream, thro' the
(cd) (ed) (cB) A2 B2 c2 | d2 f2 d2
w: wild* spang-*led* val-ley, O green by thy
{f}e2 (dc) (BA) | F2 B2 B2 B4 (BA) | F2 B2 c2
w: banks, e-*ver* bon-ny and fair! Sing* sweet-ly, ye
d4 c B | (cd) (ed) (cB) A2 B2 c2 | a3 g f2
w: birds, as ye wan-*ton* fu'* gai-ly, Yet stran-gers to
%page 113
e2 c2 A2 | F2 B2 B2 B4 ][ (Bc) |
w: sor-row, and stran-gers to care. The*
d2 f2 f2 f4 (ed) | c2 e2 e2 e4 a2 |
w: wea-ry day lang I* list to your sang, And
f2 b2 ^a2 b2 c'2 d'2 | f2 b2 ^a2 b4 (bc') |
w: waste il-ka mo-ment, sad, cheer-less, a-lane: Each*
d'2 c'2 b2 a2 g2 f2 | {f}e2 (dc) a2 A2 B2 c2 |
w: sweet lit-tle trea-sure o' heart-cheer-*ing plea-sure, Far
d2 f2 d2 (fe) (dc) (BA) | F2 B2 B2 B4 |]
w: fled frae my bo-*som* wi'* Cap-tain O'-Kaine.
%page 114
W:2.Fu' aft on thy banks hae we pu'd the wild gowan,
W:    And twisted a ringlet beneath the hawthorn:
W:  Ah! then each fond moment wi' pleasure was glowin;
W:    Sweet days o' delight, which can never return!
W:  Now ever, waes me! the tear fills mine ee,
W:    And sair is my heart wi' the rigour o' pain
W:  Nae prospect returning to gladden life's morning,
W:    For green waves the willow o'er Captain O'Kaine.
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%%sep 5 1 500
%: 2
T: the CHEVALIER'S LAMENT
T: to the same air
K:
W:1.The small birds rejoice in the green leaves re-turning,
W:    The murmuring streamlet runs clear through the vale;
W:  The primroses blow in the dews of the morning,
W:    And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.
W:  But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair.
W:    When the ling'ring moments are number'd by care?
%page 115
W:  No birds sweetly singing, nor flow'rs gaily springing,
W:    Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair.
W:
W:2.The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice?
W:    A king and a father to place on his throne.
W:  His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys,
W:    Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.
W:  But 'tis not my suff'rings, thus wretched, forlorn,
W:    My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn;
W:  Your faith prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial,
W:    Alas! can I make it no better return?
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