THE HIGHLAND PLAID.
Lowland lassie will ye go,
Whare the hills are clad wi' snow,
Whare beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep;
Ill nor wae shall thee betide,
When row'd within my Highland plaid.
Soon the voice of cheary spring
Will gar a’ our plantins ring,
Soon our bonny heather braes,
Will put on their summer claes;
On the mountain's sunny side
We’ll lean us on my Highland plaid.
When the simmer spreads the flow'rs
Basks the glens in leafy bow'rs,
Then we'll seek the caller shade,
Lean us on the primrose bed;
While the burning hours preside,
I'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Then we'll leave the sheep and goat,
I will launch the bonny boat,
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,
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.
“ 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.