LXXIII The Bride’s Tragedy
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 leaned my back unto an aik, 5
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bowed, and syne it brak’,
Sae my true Love did lichtly me.
O waly, waly, but love be bonnie,
A little time while it is new, 10
But when ’tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like morning dew.
Oh! wherefore should I busk my head,
Or wherefore 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 prest by me,
Saint Anton’s well shall be my drink,
Since my true Love’s 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 am wearie.
’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 mysel’ in cramasie.
But had I wist, before I kissed,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I’d locked my heart in a case of gowd, 35
And pinned it with a siller pin.
And oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse’s knee,
And I mysel’ were dead and gane,
With the green grass growing over me! 40
Anon.