The Blaeberries,
WILL you go to the Highlands, my jewel with me
Will you go to the Highlands the flocks for to ſee
It is health to my jewel to breath the ſweet air,
And to pull the blaeberries in the foreſt ſo fair
To the Highlands my jewel I'll not go with thee,
For the road it is long and the hills they are high,
I love theſe low vallies and ſweet corn fields,
More than all the blaeberries your wild mountains yield.
Our hills they are bonny when the heather's in bloom,
It would cheer a fine fancy in the month of June,
To pull the blaeberries and carry them home,
And ſet them on your table when December does come,
Out ſpake her father the ſaucy auld man,
You might have choſen a mistress among your own clan
Its but poor entertainment to our lowland dames,
To promiſe them berries and blue heather blooms,
Kilt up your green plaidie and walk over yon hill,
For the ſight of your highland face does me much ill,
For I'll wed my daughter, and ſpare pennies too,
To whom my heart pleaſes, and what's that to you?
My plaidie is broad, it has colours anew,
Guedman for your kindneſs, I'll leave it with you;
I have got a warm cordial, keep a cold from me,
The blythe blinks of love from your daughter's eye.
My flocks are but thin and my lodging but bare,
And you that has meikle the mair you can spare,
Some of your ſpare pennies with us yo will ſhare,
