The poem
O HOW can I be blythe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonie lad that I lo’e best Is o’er the hills and far awa!
It’s no the frosty winter wind, It’s no the driving drift and snaw; But aye the tear comes in my e’e, To think on him that’s far awa.
My father pat me frae his door, My friends they hae disown’d me a’; But I hae ane will tak my part, The bonie lad that’s far awa.
A pair o’ glooves he bought to me, And silken snoods he gae me twa; And I will wear them for his sake, The bonie lad that’s far awa.
O weary Winter soon will pass, And Spring will cleed the birken shaw; And my young babie will be born, And he’ll be hame that’s far awa.