3
Kilt up your green plaidie, walk over yon hill.
For a sight of your highland face does me much ill,
For I will wed my daughter and spare pennies too,
To whom my heart pleases, and what’s that to you.
My plaid it is broad, it has colours anew,
Goodman, for your kindness, I’ll leave it with you;
I have got a warm cordial keeps the cold from me,
The blithe blinks of love from your daughter’s eye.
My flocks they are thin, and my lodgings but bare,
And you that has meikle, the more you can spare;
Some of your spare pennies with me you will share.
And you winna send your lassie o’er the hills bare.
He went to his daughter to give her an advice,
Said, if you go with him, I’m sure you’re not wise;
He is a rude highland fellow, as poor as a crow;
He’s the clan of Caithness for ought that I know.
But if you go with him, I’m sure you’ll go bare,
You shall have nothing father or mother can spare.
Of all I possess I’ll deprive you for ay,
If o’er the hills, lassie, you do go away.
It’s father keep what you’re not willing to give,
For fain I would go with him as sure as I live;
What signifies gold or treasure to me,
If the highland hills are between my love and me?
