Wae is my heart, and the tear’s in my e’e;
Lang lang Joy’s been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o’ Pity ne’er sounds in my ear.
Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I lov’d;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I prov’d;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.
Of, if I were– where happy I hae been –
Down by yon stream, and yon bonie castle—green;
For there he is wand’ring and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis’ e’e