3
Lowland lads may dress mair fine,
Woo in word mair saft than mine:
Lowland lads hae mair of art,
A' my boast's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
O row me in thy Highland plaid.
Woo in word mair saft than mine:
Lowland lads hae mair of art,
A' my boast's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
O row me in thy Highland plaid.
Bonnie lad, ye've been so leal,
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Tak me—tak me for your ain:
Cross the Frith, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Tak me—tak me for your ain:
Cross the Frith, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
MARK YONDER POMP.
Tune—Deil tak the wars.
Mark yonder pomp of courtly fashion,
Round the wealthy, titled brides
But when compar'd wi' real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride,
What are the showy treasures!
What are the noisy pleasures!
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art.
The polish'd jewel's blaze
May draw the wond'ring gaze,
Round the wealthy, titled brides
But when compar'd wi' real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride,
What are the showy treasures!
What are the noisy pleasures!
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art.
The polish'd jewel's blaze
May draw the wond'ring gaze,
