The Quaker’s Wife

Dark was the morn and black the sea
When my dear laddie left me
The swelling sails how swift they flee
Of all my joy bereft me!
Methinks I see him take his stand
On deck so firm and steady;
And distant when he wav'd his hand
I knew his tartan plaidy

Alas! how heavy are the days
In absence and in sorrow
While war and death a thousand ways
Still make me dread tomorrow
O that ambition were at rest
While I, the captain's lady
Should with my soldier be so blest
All gay in tartan plaidy!