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When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I'll hap thee wi' my Highland Plaid.
Lowland lads may dress mair fine,
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lowland lads hae mair of art,
A' my boast ‘s an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride-
O row thee in my Highland Plaid.
Bonnie lad, ye've been sae leal,
My heart wad break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Tak me-tak me for your ain.
Cross the Frith, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.
Go where glory waits thee,
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me,
When the praise thou meetest,
To thine ear is sweetest,
Oh! then remember me,
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee,
