On fair Kirconnell Lee!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my love dropt down and spak nae mair,
There did she swoon wi' mickle care,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.
As I went down the water side,