Anna of the Tyne
A bonny swain, blithe Sandy nam’d,
Who’d muckle land and kine,
A lassie lov’d, for beauty fam’d,
Fair Anna of the Tyne.
And thus would Sandy joyous sing,
“Fair maid, O be but mine;
More blest I’d be than laird or king,
With Anna of the Tyne.”
“Kind youth,” she cried, “nae kine or land,
Nor money I’ve in store;
Then cease to ask my humble hand,
Nor wed a maid so poor.”
Yet still would Sandy joyous sing,
“Fair maid, O be but mine;
More blest I’d be than laird or king,
With Anna of the Tyne.”
“For Anna thou art rich in charms,
The wealth of worlds to me;
Then wed, and bless thy lover’s arms.”
She smil’d, and blest was he.
How rapturous then did Sandy sing,
“Now, now, the fair one’s mine;
I am more bless’d then laird or king,
With Anna of the Tyne!”