I.

As I was a-wand'ring ae midsummer e'enin', The pipers and youngsters were making their game; Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, Which bled a' the wound o' my dolour again. Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him; I may be distress'd, but I winna complain; I flatter my fancy I may get anither, My heart it shall never be broken for ane.

I could na get sleeping till dawin for greetin', The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain: Had I na got greetin', my heart wad a broken, For, oh! luve forsaken's a tormenting pain.