The Highland Widow鈥檚 Lament
Oh, I am come to the low Countrie,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Without a penny in my purse,
To buy a meal to me.
It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Nae woman in the Country wide
Sae happy was as me.
For then I had a score o' kye,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Feeding on yon hill sae high,
And giving milk to me.
And there I had three score o' yowes,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Skipping on yon bonie knowes,
And casting woo' to me.
I was the happiest of a' the Clan,
Sair, sair may I repine;
For Donald was the brawest man,
And Donald he was mine.
Till Charlie Stewart cam at last,
Sae far to set us free;
My Donald's arm was wanted then
For Scotland and for me.
Their waefu' fate what need I tell,
Right to the wrang did yield;
My Donald and his Country fell,
Upon Culloden field.
Ochon, O, Donald, Oh!
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Nae woman in the warld wide,
Sae wretched now as me.
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Works read by Annette Crosbie—The works of Robert Burns
All her recordings from the 250th anniversary project.
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