| O WALY waly up the bank, | |
| And waly waly down the brae, | |
| And waly waly yon burn-side | |
| Where I and my Love wont to gae! | |
| I leant my back unto an aik, | 5 |
| I thought it was a trusty tree; | |
| But first it bow'd, and syne it brak, | |
| Sae my true Love did lichtly me. | |
| |
| O waly waly, but love be bonny | |
| A little time while it is new; | 10 |
| But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld | |
| And fades awa' like morning dew. | |
| O wherefore should I busk my head? | |
| Or wherefore should I kame my hair? | |
| For my true Love has me forsook, | 15 |
| And says he'll never lo'e me mair. | |
| |
| Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed, | |
| The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me, | |
| Saint Anton's well sall be my drink, | |
| Since my true Love has forsaken me. | 20 |
| Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw | |
| And shake the green leaves aff the tree? | |
| O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? | |
| For of my life I am wearïe. | |
| |
| 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, | 25 |
| Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie— | |
| 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, | |
| But my Love's heart grown cauld to me. | |
| When we came in by Glasgow town | |
| We were a comely sight to see; | 30 |
| My Love was clad in the black velvét, | |
| And I mysell in cramasie. | |
| |
| But had I wist, before I kist, | |
| That love had been sae ill to win, | |
| I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd | 35 |
| And pinn'd it with a siller pin. | |
| And oh, if my young babe were born, | |
| And set upon the nurse's knee, | |
| And I mysell were dead and gane, | |
| And the green grass growing over me! | 40 |
| |
