8
He pues the blooming heather, he pues the lilly meek,
Calls the lily like my bosom the heather like my cheek,
His words are aye so tender, my heart is aye so glad,
There’s nae wooer like the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid.
I winna hae the laddie that ca’s the cart & plough,
Although he may be tender, although be may be true,
But I will hae the laddie, that has my heart betrayed
He’s the faithful shepherd laddie, that wears the Crook and Plaid.
It’s down beside the hawthorn that blooms in the vale,
I’ll meet him in the gleaming far frae the noisy gale,
His words are aye sae tender, my heart is aye sae glad,
For he kens the way sae nicely to row me in his Plaid.
To such a faithful lover, oh, who would not comply,
True love gives purer pleasure than aught beneath the sky,
If love be in your bosom, my heart can ne’er be sad,
And thro’ life I’ll lo’e the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid.
