500. Song—Craigieburn Wood (Second Version)

 SWEET fa’s the eve on Craigieburn,
 And blythe awakes the morrow;
But a’ the pride o’ Spring’s return
 Can yield me nocht but sorrow.


I see the flowers and spreading trees,
 I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
 And Care his bosom wringing!


Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
 Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
 If I conceal it langer.


If thou refuse to pity me,
 If thou shalt love another,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
 Around my grave they’ll wither.

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