From the Rude Bustling Camp
From the Rude Bustling Camp | |
Robert Tannahill
| From the rude bustling camp, to the calm rural plain, I'm come, my dear Jeanie, to bless thee again; Still burning for honour our warriors may roam, But the laurel I wish'd for I've won it at home: All the glories of conquest no joy could impart, When far from the kind little girl of my heart Now, safely return'd, I will leave thee no more But love my dear Jeannie till life's latest hour. | 2. The sweets of retirement how pleasing to me! Possessing all worth, my dear Jeanie, in thee ! Our flocks early bleating will make us to joy, And our raptures exceed the warm tints in the sky; In sweet rural pastimes our days still will glide, Till Time, looking back, will admire at* his speed; Still blooming in virtue, though youth them be o'er, I'll love my dear Jeanie till life's latest hour. |