The gowan  glitters on the sward,
The lavrock's in the sky,
And Colley on my plaid keeps ward,
And time is passing by.
Oh, no! sad and slow!
The shadow of our trysting bush
It wears so slowly round!
 
I coft  yestreen from Chapman Tam
A snood of bonnie blue,
And promised, when our trysting cam',
To tie it round her brow.
Oh, no! sad and slow!
The time it winna pass:
The shadow of that weary thorn
Is tether'd on the grass.
 
O, now I see her on the way,
She's past the Witches' Knowe:
She's climbing up the Browney's Brae,
My heart is in a lowe.
Oh, no! 'tis na so!
'Tis glamrie I hae seen:
The shadow of that hawthorn bush
Will move nae mair till e'en.