Wi' sorrow stamp'd on her brow
She did her mind unveil,
She told me all she had pass'd thro'
Since on the banks o' Swale.
But O her history how sad,
To sad for me to tell,
T'wad mak e' heart o' stane to bleed,
Ah mourn ye banks o' Swale.
Then ye nymphs that mak sea free
Wi' laddies that love ale,