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.