Craigie-burn Wood / Robert Burns

I.

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigie-burn,

And blithe awakes the morrow;

But a' the pride o' spring's return

Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

II.

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?

III.

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.

IV.

If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shall love anither,

When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,

Around my grave they'll wither.