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And in my arms ye‘se lie and sleep,
And ye shall be my dearie.
Ca‘ the ewes, &c.

If ye‘ll but stand to what ye‘ve said,
I‘se gang wi‘ you, my shepherd lad;
And ye may row me in your plaid,
And I shall be your dearie.
Ca‘ the ewes, &c

While waters wimple to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
Till clay-cauld death shall blind my ee,
Ye shall be my dearie.
Ca‘ the ewes, &c.

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Soldier’s Song

The heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken curtains for my head,
My lullaby the warder’s tread,
Far, far from love and thee, Mary.
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
My couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song, thy wail, sweat maid!
It will not wauken me, Mary!