“ I’ve lo’ed thee o’er truly to seek a new dearie,
I’ve lo’ed thee o’er fondly thro’ life ere to weary,
I’ve lo’ed thee o'er lang dear, at last to deceive thee,
Look cauldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee.
There’s nae ither saft e’e that fills me wi’ pleasure,
There’s nae ither rose lip has half o’ its treasure,
There’s nae ither love-bower shall ever receive me,
Till death break this fond heart—oh then maun I leave thee. ”

“ We’re the king’s subjects while we live,
The doctor’s when we’re dead.
Though when in health and thoughtless mood
We treat them oft with scoffing,
Yet they, returning ill with good,
Relieve us from our coughing. ”

“ So pensive was Kathleen, my poor little Kathleen, my
Kathleen, O.
Cold was the night-breeze that sigh’d round her bower,
It chill’d my poor Kathleen, she droop’d from that hour,
And I lost my poor Kathleen, my own little Kathleen,
my Kathleen, O.
The bird of all birds that I love the best,
Is the Robin that in the churchyard builds his nest,
For he seems to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on Kathleen,
my Kathleen, O.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”