The dawn is just a breakin',
across this ol' hilly land.
Me heart is sorely achin',
o'er the lass who'd held me hand.
As I glanced 'cross the gloamin',
the sunrise' castin' shadows.
I'd hoped to see her roamin',
toward that familiar meadow.
'Twas there that we shared our love,
one so soft and sweet and true.
'Twas there the clouds swirled above,
in a sky so ever blue.
Alas, one October mornin',
when the skies had turned to grey,
and the rain began a pourin',
the lass upped and walked away.
So each morn I face the east,
and I play these bloody pipes.
This poor lad's plea will ne'er cease,
'til his lass comes home for keeps!