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.
O, come awa', come awa',
Come awa' wi' me, Jenny!
Sic frowns I canna bear frae ane,
Whase smiles ance ravish'd me, Jenny.
If you'll be kind, you'll never find
That ought shall alter me, Jenny;
For ye're the mistress of my mind,
Whate'er ye think of me, Jenny!
First when your sweets enslaved my heart,
Ye seem'd to favour me, Jenny;
But now, alas! you act a part
That speaks inconstancie, Jenny.
Inconstancie is sic a vice,
It's not befitting thee, Jenny;
It suits not with your virtue nice,
To carry sae to me, Jenny.
O, haud awa', bide awa',
Haud awa' frae me, Donald!
Your heart is made ower large for ane—
It is not meet for me, Donald.
Some fickle mistress you may find
Will jilt as fast as thee, Donald;
To ilka swain she will prove kind,
And nae less kind to thee, Donald:
But I've a heart that's naething such;
'Tis fill'd wi' honestie, Donald,
I'll ne'er love mony; I'll love much;
I hate all levitie, Donald.
Therefore nae mair, wi' art, pretend
Your heart is chain'd to mine, Donald;
For words of falsehood ill defend
A roving love like thine, Donald.
First when ye courted, I must own,
I frankly favour'd you, Donald;
Apparent worth and fair renown
Made me believe you true, Donald:
Ilk virtue then seem'd to adorn
The man esteem'd by me, Donald;
But now the mask's faun aff, I scorn
To ware a thocht on thee, Donald.
And now for ever haud awa',
Haud awa' frae me, Donald!
Sae, seek a heart that's like your ain,
And come nae mair to me, Donald:
For I'll reserve mysel' for ane,
For ane that's liker me, Donald.
If sic a ane I canna find,
I'll ne'er lo'e man, nor thee, Donald.
Then I'm the man, and fause report
Has only tauld a lie, Jenny;
To try thy truth, and make us sport,
The tale was raised by me, Jenny.
When this ye prove, and still can love,
Then come awa' to me, Donald!
I'm weel content ne'er to repent
That I ha'e smiled on thee, Donald!