Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 363. Song—My Native Land sae far awa |
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| O SAD and heavy, should I part, | |
| But for her sake, sae far awa; | |
| Unknowing what my way may thwart, | |
| My native land sae far awa. | |
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| Thou that of a’ things Maker art, | 5 |
| That formed this Fair sae far awa, | |
| Gie body strength, then I’ll ne’er start | |
| At this my way sae far awa. | |
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| How true is love to pure desert! | |
| Like mine for her sae far awa; | 10 |
| And nocht can heal my bosom’s smart, | |
| While, oh, she is sae far awa! | |
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| Nane other love, nane other dart, | |
| I feel but her’s sae far awa; | |
| But fairer never touch’d a heart | 15 |
| Than her’s, the Fair, sae far awa. | |
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