Although she promised to be true,
She proven has, alake! unkind;
Which gars poor Jocky often rue,
That e'er he loved a fickle mind.
And it's over the hills and far away,
Over the hills and far away,
Over the hills and far away,
The wind has blawn my plaid away.
Now Jocky was a bonnie lad
As e'er was born in Scotland fair;
But now, poor man! he's e'en gane wud,
Since Jenny has gart him despair.
Young Jocky was a piper's son,
And fell in love when he was young;
But a' the springs that he could play,
Was o'er the hills, and far away.
And it's o'er the hills, &c.
He sung—When first my Jenny's face
I saw, she seem'd sae fu' of grace,
With meikle joy my heart was fill'd,
That's now, alas! with sorrow kill'd.
Oh! was she but as true as fair,
'Twad put an end to my despair;
Instead of that she is unkind,
And wavers like the winter wind.
And it's o'er the hills, &c.
Ah! could she find the dismal wae,
That for her sake I undergae,
She could nae choose but grant relief,
And put an end to a' my grief,
But, oh! she is as fause as fair,
Which causes a' my sighs and care;
But she triumphs in proud disdain,
And takes a pleasure in my pain.
And it's o'er the hills, &c.
Hard was my hap to fa' in love
With ane that does sae faithless prove;
Hard was my fate to court a maid,
That has my constant heart betray'd.
A thousand times to me she swore,
She wad be true for evermore;
But, to my grief, alake! I say,
She staw my heart and ran away.
And it's o'er the hills, &c.
Since that she will nae pity take,
I maun gae wander for her sake,
And, in ilk wood and gloomy grove,
I'll sighing sing, adieu to love!
Since she is fause whom I adore,
I'll never trust a woman more;
Frae a' their charms I'll flee away,
And on my pipe I'll sweetly play.
And it's o'er the hills, &c.
How can my poor heart.
[Written by Burns for Thomson's collection, to the tune of "O'er the hills and far away."]
How can my poor heart be glad,
When absent from my sailor lad?
How can I the thought forego,
He's on the seas to meet his foe!
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my love;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are with him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are aye wi' him that's far away.
When in summer's noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun
My sailor's thund'ring at his gun:
Bullets, spare my only joy!
Bullets, spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with roe what you may,
Spare but him that's far away!
At the starless midnight hour,
When winter rules with boundless power,
As the storms the forests tear,
And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can—I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away.
Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild war his ravage end,
Man with brother man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet.
Then may heaven with prosperous gales
Fill my sailor's welcome sails,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.
