Classic Poem

Oh, what's the matter wi' you, my lass,
An' where's your dashin Jimmy?
The sowdger boys have picked him up
And sent him far, far frae me.

Last pay-day he set off to town,
And them red-coated fellows
Enticed him in and made him drunk,
And he'd better gone to the gallows.

The very sight o' his cockade,
It set us all a-cryin;
And me, I fairly fainted twice,
I thought that I was dyin.

My father would have paid the smart,
And run for the golden guinea,
But the sergeant swore he'd kissed the book,
And now they've got young Jimmy.

When Jimmy talks about the wars
It's worse than death to hear him.
I must go out and hide my tears,
Because I cannot bear him.

For aye he jibes and cracks his jokes,
And bids me not forsake him.
A brigadier or grenadier,
He says they're sure to make him.

As I walked over the stubble field,
Below it runs the seam,
I thought o' Jimmy hewin there,
But it was all a dream.

He hewed the very coals we burn,
And when the fire I'se leetin,
To think the lumps was in his hands,
It sets my heart to beatin.
So break my heart, and then it's ower,
So break my heart, my dearie,
And I'll lie in the cold, cold grave,
For of single life I'm weary.