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.
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mein,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green,—
No more of me yon knew, my love!
No more of me you knew.
This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But it shall bloom in winter snow,
Ere we two meet again.
He turn'd his charger as he spake,
Upon the river shore:
He gave his bridle-reins a shake,
Said, Adieu for evermore, my love!
And adieu for evermore.