Poem by Robert Burns

Tho’ Cruel Fate

THO’ cruel fate should bid us part,
  Wide as the pole and line;
Her dear idea round my heart
  Should tenderly entwine.

Tho’ mountains rise and deserts howl,
  And oceans roar between;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
  I still would love my Jean.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Stay My Charmer
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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