Page:Highland Harry.pdf/4

 It's no its loud roar on the wintry wind swelling;

It's no the cauld blest brings the tear to my e'e;

For O gin I saw my bonny Scotch callan,

The dark days o' winter were simmer to me.

Oh! I am come to the low country,

Ochon, ochon, ochrie!

Without a penny in my purse,

To buy a meal to me.

It wasna sae in the Highland hills,

Ochon, ochon, ochrie!

Nae woman in the country wide

Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o' kye,

Ochon, ochon, ochrie!

Feeding on yon hill sae high,

And bringing milk to me.

And there I had threescore o' ewes,

Ochon, ochon ochrie!

Skipping on yon bonny knowes,

And casting woo to me.

I was the happiest o' the clan,

Sair, sair, nay I repine,

For Donald was the bravest man,

And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie be came ower at last,

Sae far to set us free;

My Donald's arm was wanted then

For Scotland and for me.