the bohat's far awa
o how i be blythe and gd,
or how i gang brisk and braw,
when the bohat 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 es 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 bohat'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 bohat'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.