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My love he wears a bonnet,
A bonnet, a bonnet,
A snawy rose upon it,
A dimple on his chin, O
Merry may, &c
Donald of Dundee.
Young Donald is the blithest lad,
That e'er made love to me;
Whene'er he's by, my heart is glad,
He seems so gay and free;
Then on his pipe he plays so sweet,
And in his plaid he looks so neat,
It cheers my heart at eve to meet
Young Donald of Dundee.
Whene'er I gang to yonder grove,
Young Sandy follows me,
And fain he wants to be my love,
But ah! it canna be.
Tho' mither frets both ear' and late,
For me to wed this youth I hate;
There's none need hope to gain young Kate,
But Donald of Dundee.
