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6
What gars me ay turn cauld as death,
When I tak leave o‘ thee?
When thou art far awa,
Thou'lt dearer grow to me;
But change o‘ fouk and change o‘ place;
May gar thy fancy jee.
Then I‘ll sit down and mourn,
Just by yon spreading tree,
And gin a leaf fa ‘ in my lap,
I'll ca't a word frae thee.
Syne I‘ll gang to the bower,
Which thou with roses tied,
‘Twas there, by many a blushing bud,
I strove my love to hide.
I‘ll doat on ilka spot,
Whar I hae been wi‘ thee,
I‘ll ca‘ to mind some guid love tale,
By every burn and tree.
‘Tis hope that cheers the mind,
Tho‘lovers distant be,
And when I think I see thee still,
I'll think I‘m still with thee.
