There’s nothing under the Moon I’d crave.

There’s nothing under the moon I’d crave 

If you I had all else I’d have

In lack of thee, there is nothing

that to my mind content can bring.

But how can even balance sort 

with a lying tongue and a bad report

that goes betwixt my love and me

Yet I can love none but thee.

“This Air was arranged by the Editor in 1852 from the singing of the old woman, referred to in Volume I. p. 42. The croon is worthy of being preserved, whatever may be thought of the doleful words of the lover, which she sung to the Air. The simile of the “dove so chaste”, that sits and mourns for its mate on a lonely tree, appears in different forms in some of the Buchan Bal Lads which the Editor has heard sung in his boyhood, and well delineates a disappointment or forsaken lover.” - Taken from Dean William Christie (1817-1885) of Fochabers - Traditional Ballad Airs volume II.