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I winna hae the laddie that ca’s the cart and plough,
Although he may be tender, although he may be true,
But I will hae the laddie that has my heart betrayed,
He’s the faithful shepherd laddie, that wears the
Crook and Plaid.
For he’s, &c.
It’s down beside the hawthorn that blooms in yonder vale,
I’ll meet him in the gloaming far frae the noisy gale,
His words are aye so tender, my heart is aye so glad,
For he kens the way sae nicely to row me in his plaid,
For he’s &c.
To such a faithful lover, oh who would not comply!
True love gives purer pleasure than aught beneath the sky.
If love be in your bosom my heart can ne’er be sad.
And through life I’ll loe the laddie that wears the
Crook and Plaid.
For he’s &c.
