O that I were as a thistledown,
As a thistledown on an Ayrshire lea;
O that I were as a thistledown,
Out of the pod and free;
For I would sail till the sun went down,
Over the gorse and the heather brown,
Far, O far, from the hated town,
And straight away to the sea!
O that I were as a thistledown,
As a thistledown on an Ayrshire lea,
For I would sail till the sun went down,
And the moon made light in the tree:
Yea, that I were as a thistledown,
Whirling away over heather brown,
For I would sail till the moon went down,
Down in the midnight sea:
Sail, O sail, till the late stars drown,
Down in the drowning sea.