O SAD and heavy, should I part,
But for her sake, sae far awa;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land sae far awa.
Thou that of a things Maker art,
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then Ill neer start
At this my way sae far awa.
How true is love to pure desert!
Like mine for her sae far awa;
And nocht can heal my bosoms smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa!
Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but hers sae far awa;
But fairer never touchd a heart
Than hers, the Fair, sae far awa.
