I've seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling,
I've felt all its favours and found its decay;
Sweet was its blessing, kind its caressing,
But now it is fled, fled far, far away.
O fickle Fortune,
Why this cruel sporting ?
Why thus torment us poor sons of day?
Nae mair your smiles can cheer me,
Nae mair your frowns can fear me,
For the flowers of the forest are a'wade away.
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