Page:Nothing like grog.pdf/6

 What gars me ay turn cauld as death,

When I tak leave o‘ thee?

When thou art far awa,

Thou'lt dearer grow to me;

But change o‘ fouk and change o‘ place;

May gar thy fancy jee.

Then I‘ll sit down and mourn,

Just by yon spreading tree,

And gin a leaf fa ‘ in my lap,

I'll ca't a word frae thee.

Syne I‘ll gang to the bower,

Which thou with roses tied,

‘Twas there, by many a blushing bud,

I strove my love to hide.

I‘ll doat on ilka spot,

Whar I hae been wi‘ thee,

I‘ll ca‘ to mind some guid love tale,

By every burn and tree.

‘Tis hope that cheers the mind,

Tho‘lovers distant be,

And when I think I see thee still,

I'll think I‘m still with thee.