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Poem by Robert Burns * * * As I was a wand’ring ae midsummer e’enin’, The pipers and youngsters were making their game; Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, Which bled a’ the wounds o’ my dolour again. Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi’ him; I may be distress’d, but I winna complain; I flatter my fancy I may get anither, My heart it shall never be broken for ane. I could na get sleeping till dawin’ for greetin’, The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain; Had I na got greetin’, my heart wad a broken, For, oh! love forsaken’s a tormenting pain. Altho’ he has left me for greed o’ the silier, I dinna envy him the gains he can win; I rather wad bear a’ the lade o’ my sorrow Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him. Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi’ him, I may be distress’d, but I winna complain; I flatter my fancy I may get anither, My heart it shall never be broken for ane. Robert Burns Robert Burns's other poems:
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