O sad and heavy, should I part,
But for her sake, sae far awa;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land sae far awa.
Thou that of a’things Maker art,
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Giebodystrength, then I’ll ne’er start
At this my way sae far awa.
How true is love to pure desert!
Like mine for her sae far awa;
And nochtcan healmy bosom’s smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa!
Nane other love, naneother dart,
I feel but her’s sae far awa;
Butfairer never touch’d a heart
Than her’s, the Fair, saefar awa.