Air - 'Comin' thro' the Rye.'
I've made a vow, I'll keep it true,
I'll never married be;
For the only ane that I think on
Will never think o' me.

Now gane to a far distant shore,
Their face nae mair I'll see;
But often will I think o' them,
That winna think o' me.

Gae owre, gae owre noo, gude Sir John,
Oh, dinna follow me;
For the only ane I ere thocht on,
Lies buried in the sea.