O WAE BE TO THE ORDERS THAT MARCHED MY LUVE AWA' by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL

O wae be to the orders that marched my luve awa',
And wae be to the cruel cause that gars my tears doun fa',
O wae be to the bluidy wars in Hie Germanie,
For they hae ta'n my luve, and left a broken heart to me.

The drums beat in the mornin' afore the scriech o' day,
And the wee wee fifes piped loud and shrill, while yet the morn was grey ;
The bonnie flags were a' unfurled, a gallant sight to see,
But waes me for my sodger lad that marched to Germanie.

O, lang, lang is the travel to the bonnie Pier o' Leith,
O dreich it is to gang on foot wi' the snaw- drift in the teeth!
And O, the cauld wind froze the tear that gathered in my ee,
When I gade there to see my luve embark for Germanie!

I looked ower the braid blue sea, sae long as could be seen,
Ae wee bit sail upon the ship that mysodger lad was in;
But the wind was blawin' sair and snell, and the ship sail'd speedilie,
And the waves and cruel wars hae twinn'd my winsome luve frae me.

I never think o' dancin', and I downa try to sing,
But a' the clay I spier what news kind neibour bodies bring ;
I sometimes knit a stocking, if knittin' it may be,
Syne for every loop that I cast on, I am sure to let doun three.

My father says I'm in a pet, my mither jeers at me,
And bans me for a dautit wean, in dorts for aye to be ;
But little weet they o' the cause that drumles sae my ee :
O they hae nae winsome luve like mine in the wars o' Germanie!

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