To sweet Maxwelton’s braes,
But sweet nae mair for me,
For I hae seen wi’ anguish,
Their fairest blossom dee.
When war’s alarms were over,
I sought my loved ane’s bower,
But death’s cauld breath was blighting,
Blighting my bonnie flower.
Blighting my bonnie flower,
And I nae help could gie,