Paul Mounsey My Faithful Fond One
My Faithful Fond OneMy fair and rare one, My faithful fond one, My faithful fair, Wilt not come to me, On bed of pain here, Who remain here, With weary longing for a sight of thee If wings were mine now, To skim the brine how, And like a seagull, To float me free, To Islay's shore now, They bear me o'er now, Where dwells the maiden that is dear to me My fair and rare one, My faithful fond one, My faithful fair, Wilt not come to me, On bed of pain here, Who remain here, With weary longing for a sight of thee
