Thou hear’st the winter wind and weet.
The star blinks thro’ the driving sleet;
Tak pity on my weary feet,
And shield me frae the rain, jo.
O let me in, &c.
The bitter blast that round me blaws
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa’s;
The cauldness o’ thy heart’s the cause
Of a’ my grief and pain, jo.
O let me in, &c.
HER ANSWER.
O tell na me of wind and rain,
Upbraid na me wi’ cauld disdain!
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
I winna let you in, jo.
I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
And ance for a’ this ae night,
I winna let you in, jo.
The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand’rer pours,
Is nought to what poor she endures.
That’s trusted faithless man, jo.
I tell you now, &c.
The sweetest flower that deck’d the mead,
Now trodden ilke the yileist wood;
