Waly Waly, Love be Bonny.A SCOTTISH SONG.
††††††††††† This is a very ancient song, but we can only give it from a modern copy. Some of the editions instead of the four last lines in the second stanza have these, which have too much merit to be wholly suppressed:
"When cockle shells turn siller bells,
And muscles grow on every tree,
When frost and snaw sall warm us a',
Then sall my love prove true to me."
-- See the Orpheus Caledonius, &c.
Arthur's-seat, mentioned in ver. 17, is a hill near Edinburgh; at the bottom of which is St. Anthony's well.
O WALY, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn side,
Where I and my love wer wont to gae.
I leant my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lichtly me.
O waly, waly, gin love be bonny,
A little time while it is new;
But when its auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherfore shuld I busk my head?
Or wherfore shuld I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
And says he'll never loe me mair.
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed,
The sheets sall neir be fyl'd by me:
Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.
Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O gentle death, whan wilt thou cum?
For of my life I am wearže.
'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaws inclemencie;
'Tis not sic cauld that maks me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
Whan we came in by Glasgowe town,
We were a comely sight to see,
My love was cled in black velvet,
And I myself in cramasže.
But had I wist; before I kisst,
That love had been sae ill to win,
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd,
And pinnd it with a siller pin.
And oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurses knee,
And I mysell were dead and, gane!
For a maid again Ise never be.