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O waly, waly,
up the bank, and waly, waly doon the brae,
And waly, waly yon burnside, where me and my love were ae gae!
I leaned my back against a tree, I thocht it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak: and sae did my true love tae
me.
O waly, waly,
but love be bonnie, a little time when it is new;
But when it's auld it waxes cauld, and fades away like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my heid, Or wherefore should I kame my
hair?
For my true love has me forsook, and says he'll never love me mair
Now Arthur's
Seat shall be my bed, the sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me, And
St. Anton's Well shall be my drink, since my true love has forsaken
me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw and shake the green leave
aff the tree? O, gentle death when wilt thou come? For o my live
I am wearie
'Tis not the
frost that freezes fell, nor blawing snaws inclemencie;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry: but my loves heart's grown
cauld tae me.
When we cam in by Glasgow toun, we were a comely sight tae see;
My love was clad in the black velvet, and I mysel' in cramasie.
But had I wist,
before I kissed, that love had been sae ill tae win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold, and pinn'd it wi' a siller
pin
Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, and set upon the nurses knee,
And I mysel' were dead and gane, And the green grass growing over
me!
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