For of my life I am weary.
7.
‘Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaw’s inclemency;
’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love’s heart grown cauld to me.
8.
When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely sight to see;
My love was cled in the black velvet,