8
Soon the voice of cheery spring,
Will gar a’ our plantings 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 summer spreads the flowers,
Busks the glen in leafy bowers,
Then we’ll seek the cauler shed.
Lean us on the primrose bed;
While the burning hours preside,
I’ll screen thee wi' ray Highland Plaid.
Then we’ll leave the sheep and goat,
I will launch the bonny boat,
Skim the loch in cantie glee,
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 o' art,
A' my boast’s an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
O row thee wi’ my Highland Plaid!
Bonnie lad ye’ve been sae leal,
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Tak me—tak me for your ain!
‘Cross the Frith away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.}}
FINIS.
