4
When first I beheld the sweet maid,
By moonlight alone in the vale,
Far, far from the village we stray’d,
Where I tenderly told my soft tale.
How long must I wander forlorn?
Ah! when will my sorrows be o’er?
Such grief it can never be born:
I sigh for the girl I adore.
Hand awa frae me, Donald.
Haud awa, bide awa,
Haud awa frae me, Donald;
What care I for a’ your wealth,
An’ a’ that ye can gie, Donald ?
I wadna lea’ my Lowland lad
For a’ your gowd an’ gear, Donald;
Sae tak your plaid an o er the hill,
An’ stay nae langer here, Donald.
Haud awa, bide awa, &c.
My Jeamie is a gallant youth,
I lo’e but him alane, Donald,
And in bonny Scotland’s isle,
Like him there is nane, Donald.
Haud awa, bide awa,
Aaud awa frae me, Donald,
What care I for a’ your wealth,
An’ a’ that ye can gie, Donald?
