Hear me, ye nymphs, and every swain, 
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Though thus I languish, thus complain, 
Alas! she ne'er believes me. 
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded, never move her; 
At the bonny bush aboon Traquair,
'Twas there I first did love her.

Ye rural powers, who hear my strains, 
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains, 
Then let her smiles relieve me.
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender; 
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.