O waly, waly, up the bank, <br />O waly, waly, down the brae. <br />And waly, waly, yon burn side, <br />Where I and my love wont to gae. <br />I leaned my back unto an aik, <br />An' thocht it was a trustie tree, <br />But first it bow'd and syne it brak, <br />Sae my true love did lichtly me. <br /> <br />O waly, waly, but love is bonnie <br />A little time while it is new, <br />But when it's auld it waxes cauld, <br />And fades away like morning dew. <br />O wherefore should I busk my head, <br />O wherefore should I kame my hair, <br />For my true love has me forsook, <br />And says he'll never love me mair. <br /> <br />Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, <br />The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me, <br />St. Anton's well shall be my drink, <br />Since my true love has forsaken me. <br />Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, <br />And shake the green leaves off the tree! <br />O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? <br />For of my life I am wearie! <br /> <br />'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, <br />Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie, <br />'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, <br />But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. <br />When we came in by Glasgow toun <br />We were a comely sicht to see; <br />My love was clad in the black velvet, <br />And I mysel in cramasie. <br /> <br />But had I wist before I kist <br />That love had been sae ill to win, <br />I'd locked my heart in a case of gold, <br />And pinned it wi' a siller pin. <br />Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, <br />And set upon the nurse's knee; <br />And I myself were dead and gane, <br />And the green grass growing over me!<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waly-waly-3/
