Lewie Gordon/Waly waly up the bank

---

WALY, WALY.

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,
⁠I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow‘d, and syne it brak,
⁠Sae my true love did lightlie me.

O waly waly gin love be bonny,
⁠A little time while it is new;
But when its 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,
⁠And says he'll never loe me mair.

Now Arthur-seat shall be my bed,
⁠The sheets shall ne'er be fyl'd by me;
Saint Anton's well shall be my drink,
⁠Since my true love has forsaken me.
Mart'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 wearie.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
⁠Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie;
‘Tis not sick cauld that makes me cry,
⁠But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow town,
⁠We were a comely sight to see;
My love was clad i‘ th’ black velvet,
⁠And I mysel in cramasie.

But had I wist before I kist,
⁠That love had been sae ill to win,
I had lock'd my heart in a case of gowd,
⁠And pinn'd it with a siller pin.
Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
⁠And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I mysel were dead and gone,
⁠For a maid again I'll never be.