'Twas here on this bank, abune Tay-side ,
Whaur we lay — my lover and me:
Whaur we lay and loved, wi' mony sweet words;
Though sair he'rt stounds had we.

I mind it was warm; that the lift shone clear,
That the TAY was a bonnie blue:
But aye my lover he hunger'd to me: —
" O lass! will ye aye bide true? "

I pressed to his he'rt wi' tears in my een,
And the wish we were deid, we twa! —
" O dark will the days be, laddie mine!
While ye are in FRANCE far awa. "

We lay till the sun on the Sidlaws sank,
And the nicht cam' owr on DUNDEE;
As thowless at last I turned for hame,
And awa to the South went he.

Awa to the South like a thing blawn by! —
Just ane like mony ane mair;
A number he had; but nane kens the place
Whaur he passed, without kiss or care.

And here I lie whaur we lay before:
And the sun glints there on the TAY —
The haws are red, and the brambles black;
But I think my wits are fey .