6
Sae early throw the fiel's to gang?
Wad ye but gae alang wi' me,
An' wed a rantin' Highlandman.
In simmer days, on flowery braes,
When frisky is the ewe and lamb,
I'se row you in my tartan plaid,
Syne be your rantin' Highlandman.
With heather bells that finely smells,
I'll deck yere hair sae fair and lang;
If ye,ll consent, to scour the bent,
Wi' me a rantin' Highlandman;
We'll big a cot, and buy a stock,
Syne do the best that e'er we can;
Then come my dear ye needna fear,
To trust a rantin' Highlandman.
Tho' Cupid's dart had struck my heart,
And fain I wad hae gi'en my han',
Yet durstna lest my mother should
Dislike a rantin' Highlandman-
But I expect that he'll be back,
Then tho' my kin should swear and ban,
I'll owre the hill, or whare he will,
Wi' my young rantin' Highlandman.
WE'VE AY BEEN PROVIDED FOR.
Sit down here, my cronies and gi'e me your crae
Let the wind tak the care o' this life on its back,
Our hearts to despondency we ne’er will submit,
For we've ay been provided for, and sae will we yet.
And ⟨sae⟩ will we ⟨yet⟩ &c.
