The Book of Scottish Song/The cauld winter's gane

The cauld winter’s gane.

[William Train.—Air, "John Anderson my jo."—Here first printed.]

The cauld cauld winter's gane, luve,
⁠Sae bitter an sae snell;
And spring has come again, luve,
⁠To deck yon leesome dell.
The buds burst frae the tree, luve:
⁠The birds sing by the shaw;
But sad sad is my dowie heart,
⁠For ye are far awa'!

I thocht the time wad flee, luve,
⁠As in the days gane bye;
While I wad think on thee, luve
⁠And a' my patience try;
But O! the weary hours, luve,
⁠They wadna flee ava,
And they ha'e borne me nocht but dule,
⁠Syne ye ha'e been awa'.

Waes me! they're sair to bide, luve,
⁠The dirdums ane maun dree,
The feelings wunna hide, luve,
⁠Wi' saut tears in the e'e:
And yet the ills o' life, luve,
⁠Compar'd wi' joys are ama',—
Sae will it be when ye return
⁠Nae mair to gang awa'.

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