We gaed thegither through the rye
As gloaming dusked the dell,
He clamb the dyke, I wadna try,
And sae I said farewell.
I saw his blue een speiring turn
To mine that wadna see;
He louped the gurly Threeplin Burn
And gaed awa frae me.
Fu’ gleg I hameward turned my gait,
Glad I had hurt his pride,
Thinking next e’en, as sure as fate,
He’d come whate’er betide.
They told me he had travelled south
Days after he had gane;
Nae mair I’ve seen my bonnie youth,
And I am daft my lane.
Had he but said ae angry word!
Had I but stormed and grat!
Good kens I meant to be his burd,
And he was sure o’ that.
A broken heart he tholes, I trow,
Wi’ silent, angry pride,
Or he had been in Scotland now,
And I had been his bride.