The Faithless Few

O wae’s me for the faithless few,
That smiled sae sweet, yet proved untrue.
In mirth they drank, in sport they sang,
But left me lorn when sorrow rang.

Fu’ oft I thought their hearts were mine,
Through Fortune’s light and Fortune’s tyne;
Yet when the fates did change my state,
They fled as winds that scorn debate.

The gloamin’ shade, my ae true mate,
Keeps pace wi’ me through toil and fate;
It daurna leave, nor turn away,
Yet bides wi’ me for lack o’ sway.

O trusted hands that held me dear,
Where are ye now in trials sere?
Ye took my aid, my heart, my name,
Yet left me naught but grief and shame.

Aye, I hae felt this wound before,
And still, it cuts me to the core;
For friendships false, when stripped and bare,
Are ghosts that whisper naught but air.