A Fine Romance

[vagantes]

The river-god is icy cold today.
A girl with a ripe and smiling lip,
And a face like a carved angel;
"O whistle and I'll come to you my lad".

The willow tree drooped like a thing that grieves,
Upon the water the cold strikes chill,
She stood silent and still,
O whistle and I'll come to you my lad.

And turned and looking back
Saw the westering sun plunge deep
Behind the grove of oaks;
Tho' father and mither and a' should go mad.

Her soul goes out upon the dying day,
Her footsteps left on the frozen grass;
It's dark beneath the black of water
O whistle and I'll come to you my lad.

[hallaig]

The river-god is icy cold today.
A girl with a ripe and smiling lip,
And a face like a carved angel;
"O whistle and I'll come to you my lad".

The willow tree drooped like a thing that grieves,
Upon the water the cold strikes chill,
She stood silent and still,
O whistle and I'll come to you my lad.

And turned and looking back
Saw the westering sun plunge deep
Behind the grove of oaks;
Tho' father and mither and a' should go mad.

Her soul goes out upon the dying day,
Her footsteps left on the frozen grass;
It's dark beneath the black of water
O whistle and I'll come to you my lad.

Like the attempt to create an atmosphere here. Good the way you've laced Burns and yourself, and essentially made a spooky suicide tale of what was an upbeat romantic ballad.

Quibbles?

A girl with a 'ripe and smiling lip' but also the 'face of a carved angel' seems incongruous to me.
'Willow tree drooped like a thing..' is no the greatest simile
'it's dark....beneath the black...' would be surely?