“What ails this heart o’ mine?”
What ails this heart o’ mine?
What ails this watery ee?
What gars me a’ turn pale as death
When I take leave o’ thee?
When thou art far awa’,
Thou ’lt dearer grow to me;
But change o’ place and change o’ folk
May gar thy fancy jee.
When I gae out at e’en,
Or walk at morning air,
Ilk rustling bush will seem to say
I used to meet thee there:
Then I ’ll sit down and cry,
And live aneath the tree,
And when a leaf fa’s i’ my lap,
I ’ll ca ’t a word frae thee.
I ’ll hie me to the bower
That thou wi’ roses tied,
And where wi’ mony a blushing bud
I strove myself to hide.
I ’ll doat on ilka spot
Where I ha’e been wi’ thee;
And ca’ to mind some kindly word
By ilka burn and tree.