Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 399. Song—Open the door to me, oh |
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| OH, open the door, some pity to shew, | |
| Oh, open the door to me, oh, | |
| Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll ever prove true, | |
| Oh, open the door to me, oh. | |
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| Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, | 5 |
| But caulder thy love for me, oh: | |
| The frost that freezes the life at my heart, | |
| Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh. | |
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| The wan Moon is setting beyond the white wave, | |
| And Time is setting with me, oh: | 10 |
| False friends, false love, farewell! for mair | |
| I’ll ne’er trouble them, nor thee, oh. | |
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| She has open’d the door, she has open’d it wide, | |
| She sees the pale corse on the plain, oh: | |
| “My true love!” she cried, and sank down by his side, | 15 |
| Never to rise again, oh. | |
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