But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lightly me!
aik. oak.
O waly, waly, but love be bonny,
A little time, while it is new -,
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,