Page:Gems of Tannahill's songs, &c. &c..pdf/17

 17 Thou false fleeting vision, too soon wert thou o'er, Thou wak'dst me to tortures unequelled before; But death's 'silent slumbers my grief soon shall lull, And the green grass wave overs the Harper of Mull.

O ROW THEE IN MY HIGHLAND PLAID. Lowland lassie wilt thou go till Where the hills are clad with snow Where, 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 cheery Spring Will gar a' our plantings ring; Soon our bonnie heather braes Will put on their Summer claes ; On the mountain's sunny side, We'll lean us on any Highland plaid. When the summer spreads the flow'rs, Busks the glens in leafy bow'rs, Then we'll seek the calor 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, I will launch the bonny boat, Skim the loch in canty glee,