This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
My heart is wae, and unco wae,
To think upon the raging sea,
That roars between her gardens green
And the bonie Lass of Albany.
This lovely maid's of royal blood
That rulèd Albion's kingdoms three,
But oh, alas, for her bonie face,
They hae wrang'd the Lass of Albany.
In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde
There sits an isle of high degree,
And a town of fame whose princely name
Should grace the Lass of Albany.
But there's a youth, a witless youth,
That fills the place where she should be;
We'll send him o'er to his native shore,
And bring our ain sweet Albany.
Alas the day, and wo the day,
A false usurper wan the gree,
Who now commands the towers and lands—
The royal right of Albany.
We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray,
On bended knees most ferventlie,
The time may come, with pipe and drum
We'll welcome hame fair Albany.