Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue (Glasgow, 1829)/He's O'er the Hills that I Lo'e Weel

by Carolina Nairne

HE’S OWRE THE HILLS THAT I LO'E WEEL.
Tune—He's owre the hills.

He’s owre the hills that I lo’e weel,
He’s o'er the hills we danrna name;
He's o’er the hills ayont Dumblane,
Wha soon will get his welcome hame.

My father's gane to fight for him;
My brithers winna bide at hame;
My mither greets and prays for them,
And 'deed she thinks they’re no to blame.
He’s owre, &c.

The whigs may scoff, and the whigs may jeer;
But ah! that love maun be sincere,
Which still keeps true whate’er betide,
An’ for his sake leaves a’ beside.
He’s owre. &c.

His right these hills, his right these plains,
O’er hieland hearts secure he reigns;
What lads ere did our laddies will do;
W’ere I a laddie. I’d follow him too.
He's owre, &c.

Sae noble a look, sae princely an air,
Sae gallant an bold, saa young and sae fair!
Oh! did ye but see him, ye'd do as we’ve done,
Hear him but ance, to his standard you’ll run.
He’s owre, &c.

Then draw the claymore for Charlie then fight
For your country, religion, and a’ that is right;
Were ten thousand lives now given to me,
I’d die as aft, for ane o’ the three!
He’s owre, &c.

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