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 lean'd my back unto an aik,5
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lightly me!
O waly, waly, but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new;10
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like the morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherfore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,15
And says he'll never love 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.20
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree?
O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I'm weary.
'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,25
Nor blawing snaw's inclemency;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely sight to see;30
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I my sell in cramasie.
But had I wist, before I kiss'd,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold,35
And pin'd it with a silver pin.