rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,

how your dread howling a lover rms!

wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,

and waft my dearddie ance mair to my arms.

but oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his nannie,

flow still between us, thou wide roaring main!

may i never see it, may i never trow it,

but, dying, believe that my willie's my ain!