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Lizzie Lindsay.
"Will ye gang wi' me, Lizzie Lindsay?
Will ye gang to the Highlands wi' me?
Will ye gang wi' me, Lizzie Lindsay,
My bride and my darling to be?"
"To gang to the Highlands wi' you, sir,
I dinna ken how that may be;
For I ken nae the land that ye live in,
Nor ken I the lad I'm gaun wi'."
"O Lizzie lass, ye maun ken little,
If sae that ye dinna ken me;
For my name is Lord Roland MacDonald,
A chieftain o' high degree."
She has kilted her coats o' green satin,
She has kilted them up to the knee,
And she's aff wi' Lord Roland MacDonald,
His bride and his darling to be.
Our Ain Fireside.
My country, o'er thy mountains wild
Though stormy clouds may ride,
There's mony a noble generous heart
Sits round thy fireside.
Her ain fireside, my friends,
Her ain fireside;
May ne'er a tyrant's ruthless arm
Rule o'er her fireside.
How cheery round the ingle-cheek
To hear cauld winter chide;
While nappy ale an' hearty tale
Gae round the fireside!
Our ain fireside, my friends,
Our ain fireside;
I'm glad to see ye a' set round
A social fireside.
