Dearie

The sands o' life sae swiftly ran,

When saftly beamed your e'e,

But, lassie, syne you're gaen awa',

They run sae slaw in me.

The summers were sae rosy, dear;

The heather a' sae sweet,

The butterflies sae yellow then,

When you played at my feet.

But noo the days are a' sae dark!

Syne ye hae gaen sae far,

Ah! well! my dearie, life's too lang,

Syne ye hae gaen awa',

I luve the rain and snaw nae mair,

My heart is na the saem,

The kirkyard winds noo sweetest blaw,

Syne ye dinna cam hame.