The Book of Scottish Song/Sae merry as we ha'e been

Sae merry as we ha'e been.

[This is the title of a very old air, which is to be found in our oldest musical collections. The original words to the tune are probably lost. The old chorus, however, is retained in the following beautifully-natural song, which was first printed in Herd's collection, 1776. Burns characterizes the chorus as "truly pathetic."

"Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
⁠Sae merry as we twa ha'e been!
My heart it is like for to break,
⁠When I think on the days we ha'e seen."

The version here given of the present song differs somewhat, but chiefly in verbal points, from that given by Herd.]

A lass that was laden wi' care
⁠Sat heavily under a thorn;
I listen'd a while for to hear,
⁠When thus she began for to mourn:—
Whene'er my own lover was near,
⁠The birds seem'd far sweeter to sing;
The cold nipping winter-time wore
⁠A face that resembled the spring.
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
⁠Sae merry as we twa ha'e been!
My heart is like for to break,
⁠When I think on the days we ha'e seen.

There was love in his sweet silent looks,
⁠There was love in the touch of his hand;
I liked mair the glance o' his e'e,
⁠Then a' the green earth to command:
A word, and a look, and a touch—
⁠Hard-hearted, oh! how could I be?
Oh! the cauldest lass i' the land
⁠Wad ha'e sigh'd and ha'e melted like me!
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
⁠Sae merry as we twa ha'e been!
I wonder my heart disna break,
⁠When I think on the days we ha'e seen.

But now he is far, far awa',
⁠Between us is the rolling sea;
And the wind that wafts pleasure to a',
⁠Brings nae word frae Willie to me.
At night, when the rest o' the folk
⁠Are merrily seated to spin,
I sit mysel' under an oak,
⁠A-heavily sighing for him.
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
⁠Sae merry as we twa ha'e been!
My heart it will break ere the spring,
⁠As I think on the days that are gane.

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