This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
The last time I cam' owre the muir,
I left my love behind me:
Ye powers, what pains do I endure
When soft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd
The beaming day ensuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid,
In fit retreats for wooing.
We stray'd beside yon wand'ring stream,
And talk'd with hearts o'erflowing;
Until the sun's last setting beam
Was in the ocean glowing.
I pitied all beneath the skies,
Even kings, when she was nigh me;
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
Should I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore,
Where dangers may surround me;
Yet hopes again to see my love,
To feast on glowing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move,
In prospect of such blisses.
In all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter:
Since she excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love shall centre.
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.
The neist time I gang ower the muir,
She shall a lover find me;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Though I left her behind me;
Then Hymen's sacred bonds shall chain
My heart to her fair bosom;
There, while my being does remain,
My love more fresh shall blossom.