4
Skim the loch in canty glee,
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
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 then mine,
A' my boast's an honest heart;
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
O row thee in my Highland plaid.
“ Bonny lad ye've been sae leal,
“ My heart would break at our farewell,
“ Lang your love has made me fain,
“ Take me-take me for your ain!”
Cross the firth, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
NEIL GOW'S FAREWEEL.
You've surely heard o’ famous Neil,
The man that play'd the fiddle weel,
I wat he was a canty chiel,
And dearly loo'd the whisky, O
And ay since he wore tartan hose,
He dearly ļoo'd the Athol brose;
And wae was he, you may suppose.
To play fareweel to whisky O.
