15
THE HIGHLAND PLAID.
Lowland lassie, wilt tbou go,
Where the hills are clad wi’ snow;
Where, beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep;
I'll nor wae shall thee betide,
When row’d with my Highland plaid.
Soon the voice of cheery spring
Will gar a’ our plantings ring!
Soon our bonny heather braes,
Will put on their simmer claes,
On the mountain’s sunny side.
We’ll lean us on my Highland plaid.
When the summer spreads the flow’rs.
Busk’s the glen in leafty bow’rs.
Then we’ll seek the caller shade,
Lean us on the primrose bed;
I’ll screen thee wi’ my Highland Pliad,
While the burning hours preside.
Then we’ll leave the sheep and gout,
I will launch the bonny boat.
Skim the loch wi’ 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 salt than mine;
Lowland lads hae mair of art,
A’ my boast’s an honest heart.
