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4

Our rout it came that afternoon,
For us to march away,
Leaving many a pretty fair maid
Crying out Halliloo,
The Lanarkshire lads are going abroad,
Alas, what shall we do.

Says the mother to the daughter,
What makes ye talk so strange,
Would you marry with a soldier,
The wide world for to range.
For soldiers they are rambling boys,
They have little pay,
And how could they maintain their wives
Out of thirteen pence a day.

Says the mother to the daughter,
I'll have you close confin'd
Until the Lanarkshire lads are gone abroad,
For they do not please my mind.
But if you confine me seven long years,
And after set me free,
I will go search for my Lanarkshire lad
When I gain my liberty.

My love is clothed with scarlet,
And turned up with blue,
And every town he marches through
He can get sweethearts enow.