Ir was upon a Lammas night, THE RIGS O' BARLEY. The time flew by wi' tentless heed, The sky was blue, the wind was still, I ken'd her heart was a' my ain; I lock'd her in my fond embrace; But by the moon and stars sae bright I ha'e been blithe wi' comrades dear; Though three times doubled fairly, CHORUS.-Corn rigs an' barley rigs, And corn rigs are bonnie; WAKE me to-night, my mother dear, That I may hear The Christmas Bells, so soft and clear, To high and low glad tidings tell, CHURCH BELLS. How God the Eternal Son Came to undo what we had done; How God the Paraclete, Who in the chaste womb formed the Babe so sweet, In power and glory came, the birth to aid and greet. Wake me, that I the twelvemonth long May bear the song About with me in the world's throng; Deep in my heart, when I would sing; Each of the twelve good days Its earnest yield of duteous love and praise, Ensuring happy months, and hallowing common ways. Wake me again, my mother dear, That I may hear The peal of the departing year. O well I love, the step of Time Should move to that familiar chime : Fair fall the tones that steep The Old Year in the dews of sleep, The New guide softly in With hopes to sweet, sad memories akin! Long may that soothing cadence ear, heart, conscience win. |