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.
There's auld Rob Morris, that wons in yon glen,
He's the king o' gude fellows, and wale o' auld men;
He has gowd in his coffers, and owsen and kine,
And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.
She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the licht o' my e'e.
But, oh, she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has nocht but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed;
The wounds I maun hide that will soon be my deid.
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane,
The nicht comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane, like a nicht-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breist.
Oh, had she but been of a lower degree,
I then micht ha'e hoped she wad smiled upon me!
Oh, how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!