Classic Poem

O waly, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly doun the brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-side,
Whare me and my luve was wont to gae!

If I had kent what I ken now,
I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay;
For an I had staid at Argyle's yetts,
I might hae been his lady gay.

When I lay sick, and very sick,
And very sick, just like to die,
A gentleman, a friend of mine own,
A gentleman came me to see;
But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve's ears
He was too long in chamer with me.

O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods,
But an an ill death may you die!
Thou 's been the first and occasion last
That eer put ill twixt my luve and me.

— Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas,
Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me;
I 'll set thee in a chair of gold,
And it 's not one penny it will cost thee. —

— When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And gowd grows oer yon lily lea,
When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs,
I will come down and drink wine wi thee. —

— What ails you at our youngest son,
That sits upon the nurse's knee?
I 'm sure he 's never done any harm
And it 's not to his ain nurse and me. —

My loving father got word of this,
But and an angry man was he;
He sent three score of his soldiers brave
To take me to my own countrie.


— O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
God grant your father may prove kind
Till I see you in my own countrie. —

When she was set into her coach
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

— Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter,
Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee!
A bill of divorce I will write to him,
And a far better lord I 'll provide for thee! —

It 's very true, and it 's often said,
The hawk she 's flown and she 's left be nest;
But a' the warld may plainly see
They 're far awa that I luve best.