The Melodist/Our bonny Scotch Lads
For other versions of this work, see Our Bonnie Scots Lads.
Our bonny Scotch Lads.
By Tannahill.
Our bonny Scotch Lads in their green tartan plaids,
Their blue-belted bonnets, an' feathers sae braw,
Rank’d up on the green, war' fair to be seen,
But my bonny young Laddie was fairest of a'.
Their blue-belted bonnets, an' feathers sae braw,
Rank’d up on the green, war' fair to be seen,
But my bonny young Laddie was fairest of a'.
His cheeks were as red as the sweet heather-bell
Of the red western cloud lookin' down on the snaw;
His lang yellow hair o'er his braid shoulders fell,
An' the een o' the lasses war' fix'd on him a'.
Of the red western cloud lookin' down on the snaw;
His lang yellow hair o'er his braid shoulders fell,
An' the een o' the lasses war' 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!"
An' his red cheeks war' wet wi' the tears that did fa.'
When, torn frae my bosom, they march'd him awa';
He bade me fareweel, he cried, "O be leel!"
An' his red cheeks war' wet wi' the tears that did fa.'
Hh! Harry, my love, tho' thou ne'er should return,
'Till life's latest hour I thy absence will mourn
An mem'ry shall fade, like the leaf on the tree,;
Ere my heart spare ae thought on anither but thee.
'Till life's latest hour I thy absence will mourn
An mem'ry shall fade, like the leaf on the tree,;
Ere my heart spare ae thought on anither but thee.