Come an’ sit thee doon langside me now, my ain, my darling Sue,

Let your laddie view those e’es, lass, that match yon heaven’s blue:

Dearie, pit that wee saft han’ in mine, whiles swear that ye’ll be true

To Willie when he’s gane awa’, to fight for hame an’ you.

Here’s a bonnie sprig o’ broom, I plucked it yander on the lea,

Pit it in the auld ha’ Bible, ’twill mind thee aft o’ me,

Ken ye weel the motto o’ the broom? ’tis “hope an’ constancy;”

An’ dinna, lass, forgit me when I am far awa’ frae thee.

Ye will roam where we hae roamed, lassie, langside the mountain rill,

An’ think how aft thegither we hae watched the brooklet fill:

Ye will miss my step come bounding ’mang the heather on the hill,

But in spirit I’ll be there, lass, an’ guard thee frae all ill.

When the moon is saftly beaming, love, an’ a’ are wrapt in sleep,

When starlets frae the curtains o’ the sky come forth an’ peep,

When the heath-bell bends its tiny head, while dew-draps o’er it weep,

’Tis then my spirit shall its welcome vigil o’er thine keep.

When the haly Sabbath morn comes roun’, an’ sweet the kirk bells ring,

When wee birds wake the dingle with the songs o’ praise they sing,

When ye bend before the throne o’ Him to whom all praise we bring,

Oh! ask him then to guide me, lass, an’ guard me with His wing.