O Come away, come away,
Come away wi’ me, Jenny;
Sic frowns I canna bear frae ane
Whase smiles anes ravish’d me, Jenny:
If you’ll be kind, you’ll never find
That ought sall alter me, Jenny;
For you’re the mistriss of my mind,
What e’er you think of me, Jenny.
First when your sweets enslav’d my heart,
You seem’d to favour me, Jenny;
But now, alas! you act a part
That speaks unconstancy, Jenny.
Unconstancy is sic a vice,
‘Tis not befitting thee, Jenny;
It suits not with your virtue nice
To carry sae to me, Jenny.