8
It’s wae to thee, and it’s wae wi’ me,
For our day o’ peace is gane,
And we maun sit wi’ a tearfu’ e’e,
In our bouroch-ha’ alane.
O Scotland! Scotland, it’s wae to thee,
When thy lichts are ta’en awa’;
And it’s wae, it’s wae to a sinfu’ lan’,
When the richteous sae maun fa’.
It was a halie covenant aith
We made wi’ our Gude to keep;
And it’s for the halie covenant vow,
That we maun sit and weep.
O wha will gang to yon hill-side,
To sing the psalm at e’en?
And wha will speak o’ the luve o our Gude?
For the cov’nant reft hath been.
The gerse may grow on yon bonnie hill-tap,
And the heather sweetly blume:
But there nae mair we sall sit at e’en,
For our hearts are in the tomb.
The hectic glow is upo’ my cheek,
And the lily hue on thine;
Thou sune will lie by thy martyr’s side,
And sune I sall sleep by mine.
