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　　The Tear-Drop

　　Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;

　　Lang, lang has Joy been a stranger to me:

　　Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,

　　And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

　　Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd;

　　Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I pruv'd;

　　But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,

　　I can feel, by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.

　　Oh, if I were—where happy I hae been—

　　Down by yon stream, and yon bonie castle-green;

　　For there he is wand'ring and musing on me,

　　Wha wad soon dry the tear-drop that clings to my e'e. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns