Kate Dalrymple, and The Flowers of the Forest/This is No My Plaid
For other versions of this work, see This is No My Plaid.
THIS IS NO MY PLAID.
O this is no my plaid,My plaid, my plaid,O this is no my plaid,Bonny though the colours be.
The ground of mine was mix'd wi' blue,I got it frae the lad I loe;He ne'er has gi'en me cause to rue,And O the plaid was dear to me.Farewell ye lowland plaids o' grey,Nae kindly charms for me ye hae,The tartan shall be mine for aye,For O the colours dear to me.
For mine was silky, saft and warm,It wrapped me round frae arm to arm,And like myself it bore a charm,And O! the plaid is dear to me.Although the lad the plaid who wore,Is now upon a distant shore;And cruel seas between us roar,I'll mind the plaid that sheltered me.
The lad that gi'ed me't likes me weel,Although his name I darna tell:He likes me just as weel's himse';And O the plaid is dear to me.O may the plaidie yet be worn,By Caledonians yet unborn,Ill fa' the wretch that e'er doth scorn,The plaidie that's sae dear to me.
From surly blasts it covers me;He'll me himsel' protection give;I'll lo'e him till the day I die,And O his plaid is dear to me.I hope he'll no forget me now,Each often pledged aith and vow;I hope he'll yet return to wooMe in the plaid sae dear to me.
I hope the time will come my lad,When we will to the kirk and wed,Weel happit in the tartan plaid,The plaidie that's sae dear to me.O! this will then be my plaid,My plaid, my plaid;O! this will then be my plaid,And while I live shall ever be.