We maun wear awa', Robbie, we needna repine,
This head lang has lain in that bosom of thine;
We are auld, we are frail, we are lanely and a',
Nae mane will we mak' though we're wearin' awa'!

Frae our auld cottar-house, it winna be lang
Ere to the cauld kirkyard thegether we gang;
Though nae bonnie bairnie to love us ha'e we,
Yet some will be wae for my Robbie and me!

Nae mair will our ingle blink when it is mirk,
Our twa auld white pows will be missed in the kirk,
And the auld beggar bodie will thowless gang by,
And for the gudewife and our awmous will sigh!

To the hillock that wraps us aneath its green sod,
The feet o' our neebors will soon mak' a road,
And the bairnies will greet 'cause the auld folk are gane,
Who cuddled them aft till o' griefs they had nane.

When youngsters come hameward frae lands far awa',
'Bout me and my Robbie they'll speer and they'll ca',
They'll think o' the day when youth's simmer was fine,
And they'll mourn for us gane, wi' the hours o'langsyne.

We maun wear awa', Robbie — we need fearna to gae,
Did we e'er fail a friend — did we e'er wrang a fae?
Our life has been lowly, as lowly can be,
And death winna part my auld gudeman and me.