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He pues the blooming heather, he pues the lily meek.
Calls the lily like my bosom, the heather like my cheek.
His words are aye so tender, my heart is aye so glad.
There’s nae wooer like the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid.
For he’s &c.
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.
FINIS.
