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Or wilt thou leave thy mither’s cot,
and learn to tent the farms wi’ me!
At barn or byre thou ſhalt na drudge,
or naething elſe to trouble thee;
But ſtray amang the heather bells,
and tent the waving corn wi’ me.
Now what could artleſs Jesnie do?
ſhe had na will ſay him na,
At length ſhe bluſh’d a ſweet conſent.
and love was ay between them twa.
PLAID AMANG THE HEATHER.
THE wind blew hie o’er muir and lea,
And dark and ſtormy grew the weather,
The rain rain’d fair; nae ſhelter near,
But my love’s plaid amang the heather.
O my bonny highland laddie,
My winſome weelfar’d, highland laddie,
Wha wad mind the wind and rain.
Sae weel rowt in his tartan plaidie?
