O how can I be blythe and glad,
    Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonie lad that I lo'e best
    Is o'er the hills and far awa ?

It's no the frosty winter wind,
    It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But aye the tear comes in my e'e,
    To think on him that's far awa.

My father pat me frae his door,
    My friends they hae disown'd me a';
But I hae ane will tak my part,
    The bonie lad that's far awa.

A pair o' glooves he bought to me,
    And silken snoods he gae me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
    The bonie lad that's far awa.

O, weary Winter soon will pass,
    And Spring will cleed the birken shaw;
And my young babie will be born,
    And he'll be hame that's far awa !