The Mariner

Ye winds which kiss the groves' green tops,And sweep the mountain hour,O, softly stir the ocean wavesWhich sleep along the shore,For my love sails the fairest shipThat wantons on the sea:O, bend his masts with pleasant gales,And waft him hame to me.O leave nae mair the bonnie glen,Clear stream, and hawthorn prove,Where first we walked in gloaming grey,And sigh'd and look'd of love;For faithless is the ocean wave,And faithless is the wind—Then leave nae mair my h»art to break,'Mang Scotland's hills behind.