This text comes from The Scottish Minstrel (Second Series), a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
O saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing,
Saw ye my true love down on yon lea—
Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloaming,
Sought she the burnie whar flowers the haw-tree?
Her hair it is lint-white, her skin it is milk-white,
Dark is the blue o' her saft rolling e'e;
Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses,
Whar could my wee thing wander frae me?
I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing,
Nor saw I your true love down by yon lea;
But I met my bonnie thing late in the gloaming,
Down by the burnie whar flowers the haw-tree;
Her hair it was lint-white, her skin it was milk-white,
Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling e'e;
Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses—
Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me.
It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing,
It was na my true love ye met by the tree:
Proud is her leal heart, modest her nature:
She never lo'ed ony till ance she lo'ed me.
Her name it is Mary, she's frae Castlecary,
Aft has she sat when a bairn on my knee;
Fair as your face is, wer't fifty times fairer,
Young bragger, she ne'er wad gie kisses to thee.
It was then your Mary, she's frae Castlecary:
It was then your true love I met by the tree;
Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature,
Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me.
Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew,
Wild flash'd the fire frae his wild rolling e'e;
Ye'se rue sair this morning your boasts and your scorning,
Defend ye, fause traitor! fu' loudly ye lie.
Awa wi' beguiling, cried the youth smiling—
Aff went the bonnet, the lint-white locks flee,
The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing,
Fair stood the lov'd maid wi' the dark rolling e'e.
Is it my wee thing! is it my ain thing!
Is it my true love here that I see?
O Jamie forgie me, your heart's constant to me;
I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee!