I kenna what's come o'er him

I kenna what's come ower him,

He's no the lad he used to be;

I kenna what's come ower him,

The blythe blink has left his e'e.

He wanders dowie by himsel',

Alang the burn and through the glen;

His secret grief he winna tell—

I wish that he would smile again.

There was a time—alake the day!

Ae word o' mine could mak' him glad;

But noo, at every word I say,

I think he only looks mair sad.

The last time I gaed to the fair,

Wi' Willie o' the birken-cleugh,

Like walkin' ghost he met us there—

And sic a storm was on his broo!

I'm wae to see the chiel sae glum,

Sae dismal-like frae morn to e'en:

Than sic a cast as this had come,

I'd rather Willie ne'er ha'e seen.

I kenna what's come ower him,

He's no the lad he used to be;

I kenna what's come ower him—

The blythe blink has left his e'e.