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　　Her Answer

　　O tell na me o' wind an' rain,

　　Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain,

　　Gae back the gate ye cam again,

　　I winna let ye in, jo.

　　Chorus—I tell you now this ae night,

　　This ae, ae, ae night;

　　And ance for a' this ae night,

　　I winna let ye in, jo.

　　The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,

　　That round the pathless wand'rer pours

　　Is nocht to what poor she endures,

　　That's trusted faithless man, jo.

　　I tell you now, &c.

　　The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,

　　Now trodden like the vilest weed—

　　Let simple maid the lesson read

　　The weird may be her ain, jo.

　　I tell you now, &c.

　　The bird that charm'd his summer day,

　　Is now the cruel Fowler's prey;

　　Let witless, trusting, Woman say

　　How aft her fate's the same, jo!

　　I tell you now, &c. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns