Robert Burns, 1791
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.
2. Thou that of a' things Maker art,
3. How true is love to pure desert!|
Like mine for her sae far awa;
And nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa!
4. Nane other love, nane other dart,
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