The Book of Scottish Song/The cauld winter's gane

The cauld winter’s gane.

[William Train.—Air, "John Anderson my jo."—Here first printed.]

The cauld cauld winter's gane, luve,
Sae bitter an sae snell;
And spring has come again, luve,
To deck yon leesome dell.
The buds burst frae the tree, luve:
The birds sing by the shaw;
But sad sad is my dowie heart,
For ye are far awa'!

I thocht the time wad flee, luve,
As in the days gane bye;
While I wad think on thee, luve
And a' my patience try;
But O! the weary hours, luve,
They wadna flee ava,
And they ha'e borne me nocht but dule,
Syne ye ha'e been awa'.

Waes me! they're sair to bide, luve,
The dirdums ane maun dree,
The feelings wunna hide, luve,
Wi' saut tears in the e'e:
And yet the ills o' life, luve,
Compar'd wi' joys are ama',—
Sae will it be when ye return
Nae mair to gang awa'.

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