What ails this heart of mine,
What means this wat'ry ee?
What makes me ay turn cauld as death,
When I tak' leave o' thee?
When thou art far awa',
Thou'lt dearer grow to me;
But change o' place, and change o' folk
May gar thy fancy jee.
 
Then I'll sit down and moan,
Beneath yon spreading tree,
And gin a leaf fa' in my lap,
I'll ca't a word frae thee!
Syne I'll gang to the bower
Which thou wi' roses tied,
'Twas there by mony a blushing bud
I strove my love to hide.
 
I'll doat on ilka spot
Where I ha'e been wi' thee;
I'll ca' to mind some fond love tale
By ev'ry burn and tree.
'Tis hope that cheers the mind,
Though lovers absent be;
And when I think I see thee still,
I think I'm still wi' thee.