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Skim the loch in canty glee,
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Lowland lads may dress mair fine,
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lowland lads hae mair of art;
A' my boast's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
To row thee in my Highland plaid.
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lowland lads hae mair of art;
A' my boast's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
To row thee in my Highland plaid.
Bonny lad ye've been sae leal,
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Take me—take me for your ain!
'Cross the Firth, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Take me—take me for your ain!
'Cross the Firth, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
THE WAY WORN TRAVELLER.
Faint and wearily the way worn traveller
Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop:
Wandering drearily, a sad unraveller,
Of the mazes t'ward the mountain's top,
Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop:
Wandering drearily, a sad unraveller,
Of the mazes t'ward the mountain's top,
