Bothwell Bank

On the blyth beltane, as I went Be mysel attour the green bet, Wharby the crystal waves of Clyde Throch saughs and hanging hazels glyde, There sadly sitting on a brae I heard a damsel speak her wae.

'O Bothwell bank thou blumest fair, 'But ah thou makst my heart fou sair! 'For a beneath thy holts sae grene 'My luve and I wad sit at ene; 'While primroses and daisies mixt, 'Wi bluebells in my loks he fixt.

'But he left me ae dreatie day 'And haplie now sleips in the clay; 'Without ae sich his dethe to roun, 'Without ae flouir his grave to croun! 'O Bothwell bank thou blumest fair, 'But ah thou makst my heart fou sair!'