User:RH/Rob MacGregor: Difference between revisions

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=== And Now For Some Robbie Burns ===
=== And Now For Some Robbie Burns ===


"Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
"Behold the hour, the boat arrive; <br>
Thou goest, the darling of my heart; <br>
Thou goest, the darling of my heart;  
Sever'd from thee, can I survive, <br>
 
But Fate has will'd and we must part. <br>
Sever'd from thee, can I survive,  
I'll often greet the surging swell, <br>
 
Yon distant Isle will often hail: <br>
But Fate has will'd and we must part.  
'E'en here I took the last farewell; <br>
 
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.' <br>
I'll often greet the surging swell,  
Along the solitary shore, <br>
 
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, <br>
Yon distant Isle will often hail:  
Across the rolling, dashing roar, <br>
 
I'll westward turn my wistful eye: <br>
'E'en here I took the last farewell;  
'Happy thou Indian grove,' I'll say, <br>
 
'Where now my Nancy's path may be! <br>
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.'
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray, <br>
 
O tell me, does she muse on me!' <br>
Along the solitary shore,  
 
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,  
 
Across the rolling, dashing roar,  
 
I'll westward turn my wistful eye:  
 
'Happy thou Indian grove,' I'll say,
'Where now my Nancy's path may be!  
 
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,  
 
O tell me, does she muse on me!'


::(Behold the Hour, the Boat Arrive)
::(Behold the Hour, the Boat Arrive)

Revision as of 07:02, 11 March 2009

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Rob "Robbie" MacGregor
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Associates none yet
Profile found here
Goals save a couple lives, do a couple jigs
Contact and this is here

The Man With a Bandit's Name

And Now For Some Robbie Burns

"Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
Thou goest, the darling of my heart;
Sever'd from thee, can I survive,
But Fate has will'd and we must part.
I'll often greet the surging swell,
Yon distant Isle will often hail:
'E'en here I took the last farewell;
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.'
Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
'Happy thou Indian grove,' I'll say,
'Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me!'

(Behold the Hour, the Boat Arrive)