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.
Since all thy vows, false maid,
Are blown to air,
And my poor heart betray'd
To sad despair;
Into some wilderness
My grief I will express,
And thy hard-heartedness,
Oh, cruel fair!
Have I not graven our loves
On every tree
In yonder spreading grove,
Though false thou be?
Was not a solemn oath
Plighted betwixt us both,
Thou thy faith, I my troth,
Constant to be?
Some gloomy place I'll find,
Some doleful shade,
Where neither sun nor wind
E'er entrance had.
Into that bollow cave
There will I sigh and rave,
Because thou dost behave
So faithlessly.
Wild fruit shall be my meat,
I'll drink the spring;
Cold earth shall be my seat;
For covering,
I'll have the starry sky
My head to canopy,
Until my soul on high
Shall spread its wing.
I'll have no funeral fire,
No tears nor sighs;
No grave do I require,
Nor obsequies:
The courteous red-breast, he
With leaves will cover me,
And sing my elegy
With doleful voice.
And when a ghost I am,
I'll visit thee,
Oh, thou deceitful dame,
Whose cruelty
Has kill'd the kindest heart
That e'er felt Cupid's dart,
And never can desert
From loving thee!