November, 1807.
THE Queensferry boatie [1] rows light,
And light is the heart that it bears,
For it brings the poor soldier safe back to his home,
From many long toilsome years.
How sweet are his green native hills,
As they smile to the beams of the west,
But sweeter by far is the sunshine of hope
That gladdens the soldier's breast !
I can well mark the tears of his joy,
As the wave beaten pier he ascends,
For already, in fancy, he enters his home,
Midst the greetings of tender friends.
But fled are his visions of bliss,
All his transports but rose to deceive,
He found the dear cottage a tenantless waste,
And his kindred all sunk in the grave.
Lend a sigh to the soldier's grief,
For now he is helpless and poor,
And, forced to solicit a tender relief,
He wanders from door to door.
To him let your answers be. mild,
And, oh ! to the suff'rer be kind !
For the look of indiff'rence, the frown of disdain,
Bears hard on a generous mind.
This song first appeared in the March number of the Scots Magazine for 1808.—Ed.
[1] The Paisley Bard probably founded this song on the incident of having been ferried across the Firth of Forth from the one Queensferry to the other, and seen an old soldier on the occasion taking the same mode of conveyance.
[Semple 102]