O WALY, waly up the bank,

  And waly, waly down the brae,

And waly, waly yon burn side,

  Where I and my love were wont to gae.

I leant my back unto an aik,

  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 gin love be bonny,
  A little time while it is new;
But when its auld, it waxeth cauld,
  And fades awa' like morning dew. p. 127 O wherfore shuld I busk my head?

  Or wherfore shuld I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
  And says he'll never loe me mair.

Now Arthur-Seat sall be my bed,

  The sheets shall neir be prest by me:

Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,

  Since my true love has forsaken me.

Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,

  And shake the green leaves aff the tree?

O gentle death, when wilt thou cum?

  For of my life I am wearìe.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

  Nor blawing snaws inclemencìe;

'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,

  But my love's heart grown cauld to me.

Whan we came in by Glasgow town,

  We were a comely sight to see;

My love was clad in black velvet,

  And I myself in cramasìe.

But had I wist, before I kist,

  That love had been sae ill to win, p. 128 I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd, And pinnd it with a siller pin.

And, oh! that my young babe were born,

  And set upon the nurse's knee,

And I myself were dead and gane!

  And the green grass growing over me.