O how can I be blythe and glad,

Or how can I gang brisk and braw,

When the bonie lad that I lo'e best

Is o'er the hills and far awa!

It's no the frosty winter wind,

It's no the driving drift and snaw;

But aye the tear comes in my e'e,

To think on him that's far awa.

My father pat me frae his door,

My friends they hae disown'd me a';

But I hae ane will tak my part,

The bonie lad that's far awa.

A pair o' glooves he bought to me,

And silken snoods he gae me twa;

And I will wear them for his sake,

The bonie lad that's far awa.

O weary Winter soon will pass,

And Spring will cleed the birken shaw;

And my young babie will be born,

And he'll be hame that's far awa.