John Jeffreys - Awake Thee, My Bessy

Awake thee, my Bessy, the morning is fair
The breath of young roses is fresh on the air
The sun has long glanced over mountain and lake
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake

Oh, come whilst the flowers are still wet with the dew
I'll gather the fairest, my Bessy, for you
The lark poureth forth his sweet strain for thy sake
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake

The hare from her soft bed of heather hath gonе
The coote to the watеr already hath flown --
There is life on the mountain and joy on the lake
Then awake from thy slumbers, my Bessy, awake