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'Cause her fortune seems too high,
And unless that mind I see,
Great or good, or kind or fair,
If she slight me when I woo,
For if she be not for me,
HENCE, all you vain delights,
O sweetest Melancholy !
These are the sounds we feed upon;
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.
O WALY waly up the bank,
And waly waly down the brae,
Where I and my Love wont to gae !
I thought it was a trusty tree ;
Sae my true Love did lichtly me.
O waly waly, but love be bonny
A little time while it is new;
And fades awa' like morning dew.
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
And says he'll never loe me mair.
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed ;
The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me:
Since my true Love has forsaken me.
And shake the green leaves aff the tree ?
For of my life I am wearse.
'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie ;
But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.
We were a comely sight to see ;
My Love was clad in black velvét,
And I mysell in cramasie.
But had 1 wist, before I kist,
That love had been sae ill to win ;
And pinn'd it with a siller pin.
And set upon the nurse's knee,