Poem - On the banks of Allen Water

On the banks of Allen Water

When the sweet springtime had fled

Was the miller’s lovely daughter

Fairest of them all.

For his bride, a soldier sought her

And a winning tongue had he

On the banks of Allen Water

So misled was she.

On the banks of Allen Water

When the autumn spread its store

There I saw the miller’s daughter

But she smiled no more

For the summer, grief had brought her

And the soldier, false was he

On the banks of Allen Water

Left alone was she.

On the banks of Allen Water

When the winter snow fell fast

Still was seen the miller’s daughter

Chilling blew the blast.

But the miller’s lovely daughter

Both from cold and care was free

On the banks of Allen Water

In a grave lay she.

On the banks of the Clyde

On the banks of the Clyde stood a lad and a lassie

The lad's name was Gordie the lassie's was Jane

She threw her arms around him and cried do not leave me

For Geordie was going for to fight for his queen

She gave him a lock of her bright auburn tresses

He kissed her and pressed her once more to his heart

Till eyes spoke the love that her lips could not utter

The last word is spoken they kissed and depart

Over the burning plains of Egypt

Under the scorching sun

When he thought of the stories he'd have to tell

His love when the fight was won

He treasured with care that dear lock of hair

For his own darling Jenny he prayed

But his prayers were in vain she will ne'er see him again

Her lad in the Scotch brigade

Now the ocean divided the lad from his lassie

And Gordie was forced far away o'er the foam

His roof was the sky and his bed was the desert

But his heart with his Jenny was always at home

Now the morning that dawned on that famed day of battle

Found Gordie enacting a true hero's part

Till the enemy's bullet came into his billet

And it burned, oh, that dear lock of hair on his heart

Over the burning plains of Egypt

Under the scorching sun

When he thought on the stories he'd have to tell

His love when the fight was won

He treasured with care that dear lock of hair

For his own darling Jenny he prayed

But his prayers were in vain she will ne'er see him again

Her lad in the Scotch Brigade

On the banks of the Clyde dwelt a heart-broken mother

They told her of how the great victory was won

But the glory of England to her brought no comfort

For glory to her meant the loss of her son

But Jenny is with her to comfort and shield her

Together they'll weep and together they'll pray

And Jenny her daughter will be while she lives

For the sake of the lad who died far away