The flowers of Edinburgh

My love was once a bonny lad,

He was the flow'r of a' his kin;

The absence of his bonny face

Has rent my tender heart in twain.

I day nor night, find no delight,

In silent tears I still complain;

And exclaim 'gainst those my rival foes,

That ha'e ta'en from me my darling swain.

Despair and anguish fill my breast,

Since I have lost my blooming rose;

I sigh and moan, while others rest,

His absence yields me no repose.

To seek my love I'll range and rove,

Thro' ev'ry grove and distant plain;

Thus I'll ne'er cease, but spend my days,

To hear tidings from my darling swain.