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And like himself it bore a charm,
And O! the plaid is dear to me.
Although the lad the plaid who wore,
Is now upon a distant shore,
And cruel seas between us roar,
I'll mind the plaid that shelter'd me.
The lad that gied me't likes me well,
Although his name I darena tell,
He likes me just as weel's himsel',
And O! the plaid is dear to me.
O may the plaidie yet be worn,
By Caledonians yet unborn,
I’ll fa’ the wretch wha e'er shall scorn,
The plaidie that's sae dear to me.
Frae surly blasts it covers me,
He'll me himsel' protection gi'e,
I'll lo'e him till the day I die,
And O! his plaid is dear to me.
I hope he'll no forget me now,
Each aften pledged aith and vow,
I hope he'll yet return to woo
Me in the plaid sae dear to me.
