The Sailor Lad’s Return Poem by Susanna Blamire

And is it thee! my Willy, lad,
And safe return'd frae war;
Thou'rt dearer to thy mither's heart,
Now thou has been sae far:
But tell me a' that's happen'd thee,--
The night is wearing fast;
There's nought I like sae weel to hear
As dangers that are past.

O mither! I'm e'en fain to see
Your guid--like face the same;
To mony a place ye followed me,
When I was far frae hame:
And as I walk'd the deck at night,
And watch'd the rippling tide,
My thoughts ay flew to this lov'd spot,
And set me by your side.

O Willy! mony a sleepless night
I pass'd, an' a' for thee;
I pin'd, and turn'd just skin and bane,
Folk thought 'twas o'er wi' me.
Then when the wicked wars broke out,
The news I durst not read,
For fear thy name, my only lad,
Should be amang the dead.

Aye, mither! dreadfu' sights I've seen,
When bullets round us flew;
But i' the fight or threat'ning storm,
Still, still I thought o' you.
Our neighbours a', baith auld and young,
Please God, the morn I'll see;--
O! tell me, is the oak uncut
That us'd to shelter me?

Aye! that it is, my bonnie bairn;
And fain am I to tell,
Though oft the axe was busy there,
Thy tree they ne'er durst fell.
Oft, as I wander'd near its shade,
My ee let fa' a tear;
And mony a time to heaven I pray'd,--
O! that my lad were here.

Now, mither, age has chang'd your hair,
Again we winna part;
To leave you, though for India's wealth,
Wad break this honest heart.
Ye say my Jenny's weel and true,--
To part wi' her was wrang;
Gie, mither, gie but your consent,
We'll marry or it's lang!

God speed ye weel!--a better pair
Ne'er kneel'd before a priest;
For me! I've suffer'd lang and sair,
The grave will get me neist.
Soon, Willy, bring her frae the town,
And happy may ye be;
This house, the field, the cow, and sow,
Now a' belang to thee.