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From surly blasts it covers me;
He'll me himsel' proteetion 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 woo
Me 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.
YE BANKS AND BRAES.
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,
How ean ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant ye little (illegible text)bir
And I sae weary fu’ o’ care?
Thou’lt break my heart thou warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn;
Thou minds me o’ departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Oft have I roved by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o’ its love,
And sae did I o’ mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Fu’ sweet upon its thoruy tree;
But my fause lover stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.
