Peg Woffington

As the flowers turn sunward their faces
To welcome their lord’s early ray;
As the ivy the oak tree embraces
As the wave to the shore finds its way,
As the bee flies afar to the clover,
As the brook follows onto the sea,
E’en thus the world over and over
Would I, dearest heart, follow thee.

    To be near thee, darling, to be near thee
    Is sunlight of my life to me,
    ’Tis like a happy dream to hear thee
    Say tenderly, “I love but thee.”
    To be near thee, parting from thee never
    All other joys of life I’d give.
    My heart is in thy keeping ever
    For thee to die, for thee to live.

In the byways of doubting and dreaming
I’ve followed thee smiling through tears,
With faint hope like a will-o’-wisp gleaming
Afar in the night of my fears.
But dark forests no longer surround thee,
All the danger and doubting are past.
My journey is over, I’ve found thee,
’Tis here I shall meet thee at last.

    To be near thee, darling, to be near thee
    Is sunlight of my life to me,
    ’Tis like a happy dream to hear thee
    Say tenderly, “I love but thee.”
    To be near thee, parting from thee never
    All other joys of life I’d give.
    My heart is in thy keeping ever
    For thee to die, for thee to live.

An English laird, he loved a lass
But she replied to him, bold as brass,
“I’ll wed nane of yer Lowland class
’Cause ye don’t love the bagpipes.”
Then quoth the Laird, “for your sweet sake
I’ll Scottish music lessons take,
My ears may ache, my ears may break,
But I shall learn the bagpipes.”

And so he got a piper lad to play with all his might.
That piper laddie played all day and far into the night.
E-ah! E-ah! E-ah!

    Though pale and calm that laird began
    Right soon to howl and yell,
    “Help! Help!” he cried, “ye heav’nly pow’rs against the pow’rs of hell”
    He shouted “Welcome, stake or rack, come torturers, burn and hack.
    But I shall be a maniac with these infernal bagpipes.”

For many days he tossed and groaned
The while that hireling piper droned.
At last one day he feebly moaned
“At last I love the bagpipes.”
So then to that Scotch girl he creeps;
Her promise true to him she keeps,
And now that laird, he eats and sleeps
To music of the bagpipes.

His seven children play the pipes, his servants play as well.
His wife’s relations play all day. The laird he plays himsel’.
E-ah! E-ah! E-ah!

    Whene’er he hears a piper play
    He gibbers in his glee.
    He sings and dances at the sound in Highland ecstasy.
    And now that English lord knows why Scotch fight and death defy
    For why should heroes fear to die who do no’ fear the bagpipes?