I dinna ken what's come ower me! br There's a how whaur ance was a hert! br I never luik oot afore me, br An' a cry winna gar me stert; br There's naething nae mair to come ower me, br Blaw the win' frae ony airt! br br For i' yon kirkyard there's a hillock, br A hert whaur ance was a how; br An' o' joy there's no left a mealock- br Deid aiss whaur ance was a low! br For i' yon kirkyard, i' the hillock, br Lies a seed 'at winna grow. br br It's my hert 'at hauds up the wee hillie- br That's hoo there's a how i' my breist; br It's awa doon there wi' my Willie- br Gaed wi' him whan he was releast; br It's doon i' the green-grown hillie, br But I s' be efter it neist! br br Come awa, nicht an' mornin, br Come ooks, years, a' Time's clan: br Ye're welcome: I'm no a bit scornin! br Tak me til him as fest as ye can. br Come awa, nicht an' mornin, br Ye are wings o' a michty span! br br For I ken he's luikin an' waitin, br Luikin aye doon as I clim; br An' I'll no hae him see me sit greitin br I'stead o' gaein to him! br I'll step oot like ane sure o' a meetin, br I'll travel an' rin to him.