  O waly, O waly, waly, doun the brae, And waly, waly, yon burn-side, Where I and my love were wont to gae! I lean'd my back unto an aik, I thocht it was a trustie tree, But first it bow'd and syne Sae my true love did lichtlie O waly, waly, but love be bonnie A little time while it is new! But when it's auld it waxeth cauld, And fadeth awa' like the morning dew. O wherefore should I busk Or wherefore should I kame my hair? For my true love has me forsook, And says he'll never lo'e me mair. Noo Arthur's Seat The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me; Saint Anton's well sall be my drink; Since my true love's forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree? For of my life I am wearie. 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; But my love's heart grown cauld to me. When we cam' in by Glasgow toun, We were a comely sicht to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, And I mysel' in cramasie. But had I wist before I kiss'd That love had been so ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud, And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin. Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee; An' I mysel' were dead and gane, And the green grass growing over me! NOTES."This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with those of Lord Douglas. |
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