Robert Burns, 1793
Oh, open the door, some pity to shew,|
Oh, open the door to me, oh,
Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, oh.
2. Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
3. The wan Moon is setting beyond the white wave,|
And Time is setting with me, oh:
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, oh.
4. She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
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