The Book of Scottish Song/Our bonnie Scots lads
Our bonnie Scots lads.
[Robert Tannahill.—Set to music by R. A. Smith.]
Our bonnie Scots lads, in their green tartan plaids,
Their blue-belted bonnets, and feathers sae braw,
Rank'd up on the green were fair to be seen,
But my bonnie young laddie was fairest of a'.
His cheeks were as red as the sweet heather-bell,
Or the red western cloud looking down on the snaw,
His lang yellow hair o'er his braid shoulders fell,
And the een o' the lasses were fix'd on him a'.
My heart sunk wi' wae on the wearifu' day,
When torn frae my bosom they march'd him awa',
He bade me fareweel, he cried, "O be leel,"
And his red cheeks were wat wi' the tears that did fa'.
Ah! Harry, my love, though thou ne'er shou'dst return,
Till life's latest hour I thy absence will mourn,
And memory shall fade, like the leaf on the tree,
Ere my heart spare ae thought on anither but thee.