3
Tho' Roy's aulder thrice than I,
Perhaps his days 'ill no be mony,
And when the carle's dead and gane,
She then may turn her thoughts on Johnny.
Roy's wife &c.
THE HIGHLAND PLAID.
Lowland lassie will ye go,
Whare the hills are clad wi' snow,
Whare 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 cheary spring
Will gar a' our plantins ring,
Soon our bonny heather braes,
Will put on their summer claes;
On the mountain's sunny side
We'll lean us on my Highland plaid.
When the simmer spreads the flow'rs
Busks the glens in leafy bow'rs,
Then we'll seek the caller shade,
Lean us on the primrose bed;
While the burning hours preside,
I'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Then we'll leave the sheep and goat,
