2
The Blaeberries.
WILL you'go to Highlands, my jewel, with me
Will you go to the Highlands the flocks for to see,
It is health to my jewel to breathe the sweet air?
And to pull the blaeberries in the forrest so fair.
To the Highlands, my jewel, I'll go to with thee
For the road it is long and the hills they high
I love these low vallies and the sweet corn fields,
More than all the blaeberries your wild mountains yields,
Our hills they are bonny when the heather's in bloom
It would cheer a fine fancy in the month of June,
To pull the blaeberries and carry them home,
And set them on your table when December does come
Out spake her father, the fancy old man,
You might have chosen a mistress among your own clan
It's but poor entertainment to our lowland dames,
To promise them berries and blue heather blooms.
Kilt up your green plaidie and walk over yon hill,
For the sight of your highland face does me much ill;
For I'll wed my daughter, and spare pennies too
To whom, my heart pleases, and what's that to you?
My plaidie is broad, it has colours anew,
Guedman, for your kindness, I'll leave with you;
I have got a warm cordial, ⟨keeps⟩ a cold from me,
The blythe blinks of love from your daughter's eye.
My flocks are but thin and my lodging but bare,
And you that has meikle, the ⟨more you⟩ can spare,
Some of your spare pennies with us you will share,
And you winnna send your lassie out o'er the hills bare
