by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)

Oh, open the door
Language: English 
Oh, open the door, some pity to shew,
  Oh, open the door to me, Oh;
Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
  Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Oh, cold is the blast upon my pale cheek,
  But colder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my breast,
  Is nought to my pains from thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting beyond the white wave,
  And time is setting with me, Oh!
False friends, false love, farewell! for more
  I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
  She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!
"My true love!" she cried, -- and sank down by his side,
  Never to rise again, Oh!

Confirmed with Poems by Robert Burns, Volume II, Edinburgh, Printed for the Trustees of the Late James Morison, by John Moir, Royal Bank Close, 1811, pages 71-72.


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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2019-01-12
Line count: 16
Word count: 129