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Oh hon! my Highlandman,
Oh! my bonny Highlandman,
Weel wou'd I may true love ken,
Amang ten thousand Highlandmen.
Oh to see his tartan trews
Bonnet blue, and laigh heel'd shoes,
Philebeg aboon his knee,
That's the lad that I'll gang wi'
The princely youth that I do mean.
Is fitted to be a king;
On his bt east he wears a star;
You'd take him or the god of war.
Oh, to see this princely one,
Seated on a royal throne:
Disasters a' wou'd disappear.
Then begins the jub’lee year.
FINIS.
