Jocky met with Jenny fair
Between the dawning and the day
But Jocky now is full of care
Since Jenny stole his heart away
Although she promised to be true
She proven has, alack, unkind
The which does make poor Jocky rue
That e'er he loved a fickle mind
Jocky was a bonny lad
That e'er was born in Scotland fair
But now poor lad he does run mad
Since Jenny
Young Jocky was a piper's son
He fell in love when he was young
And all the tunes that he could play
Was O'er the Hills and Far Away
Chorus
And it's o'er the hills and far away
It's o'er the hills and far away
It's o'er the hills and far
The wind has blown my plaid away
He sang when my first my Jenny's face
I saw she seemed so full of grace
With mickle joy my heart was filled
That's now alas with sorrow killed
Oh were she but as true as fair
'T would put an end to my despair
Instead of that she is unkind
And waivers like the winter wind
Hard was my hap to fall in love
With one that does so faithless prove
Hard my fate to court a maid
Who has my constant heart betrayed
Since she is false whom I adore
I'll never trust a woman more
From all their charms I'll flee away
And on my pipes I'll sweetly play
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From The Peddlar's Pack of Ballads & Songs, ed. W.H. Logan, Edinburgh 1869. Logan wrote that he collected the lyrics from "A Dairy Maid; or a Vocal Miscellany, being a Collection of Choice Songs, Scots and English, with a Variety of Taosts and Sentiments, printed by A. Robertson, Edinburgh, and sold at his shop in Niddry's Wynd, 1784."
Between the dawning and the day
But Jocky now is full of care
Since Jenny stole his heart away
Although she promised to be true
She proven has, alack, unkind
The which does make poor Jocky rue
That e'er he loved a fickle mind
Jocky was a bonny lad
That e'er was born in Scotland fair
But now poor lad he does run mad
Since Jenny
Young Jocky was a piper's son
He fell in love when he was young
And all the tunes that he could play
Was O'er the Hills and Far Away
Chorus
And it's o'er the hills and far away
It's o'er the hills and far away
It's o'er the hills and far
The wind has blown my plaid away
He sang when my first my Jenny's face
I saw she seemed so full of grace
With mickle joy my heart was filled
That's now alas with sorrow killed
Oh were she but as true as fair
'T would put an end to my despair
Instead of that she is unkind
And waivers like the winter wind
Hard was my hap to fall in love
With one that does so faithless prove
Hard my fate to court a maid
Who has my constant heart betrayed
Since she is false whom I adore
I'll never trust a woman more
From all their charms I'll flee away
And on my pipes I'll sweetly play
--------------------------------------------------------
From The Peddlar's Pack of Ballads & Songs, ed. W.H. Logan, Edinburgh 1869. Logan wrote that he collected the lyrics from "A Dairy Maid; or a Vocal Miscellany, being a Collection of Choice Songs, Scots and English, with a Variety of Taosts and Sentiments, printed by A. Robertson, Edinburgh, and sold at his shop in Niddry's Wynd, 1784."