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6
THE HIGHLAND PLAID.
Lowland lassie, wilt thou go,
Where the hills are clad wi' snow;
Where, beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep?
Ill nor wae shall thee betide,
When row’d within my Highland Plaid.
Soon the voice of cheerie spring,
Will gar a’ our plantins ring;
Soon our bonnie heather braes,
Will put on their summer claes;
On the mountain’s sunnie side,
We’ll lean us on my Highland Plaid.
When the summer spreads the flowers,
Busks the glens in leafy bowers,
Then we’ll seek the cauler shed,
Lean us on the primrose bed;
While the hurning hours preside,
I’ll screen thee wi' my Highland Plaid.
Then we’ll leave the sheep and goat,
I will launch the bonnie boat,
Skim the loch in cantie glee,
