Page:Kate Dalrymple and The flowers of the forest (1).pdf/8

 From surly blasts it covers me;

He'll me himsel' proteetion give;

I'll lo'e him till the day I die,

And O his plaid is dear to me.

I hope he'll no forget me now,

Each often pledged aith and vow;

I hope he'll yet return to woo

Me in the plaid sae dear to me.

I hope the time will come my lad,

When we will to the kirk and wed,

Weel happit in the tartan plaid,

The plaidie that's sae dear to me.

o this will then be my plaid,

My plaid, my plaid;

O! this will then be my plaid,

And while I live shall ever be.

Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,

How ean ye bloom sae fresh and fair?

How can ye chant ye little bir

And I sae weary fu’ o’ care?

Thou’lt break my heart thou warbling bird,

That wantons through the flowering thorn;

Thou minds me o’ departed joys,

Departed never to return.

Oft have I roved by bonnie Doon,

To see the rose and woodbine twine,

And ilka bird sang o’ its love,

And sae did I o’ mine.

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,

Fu’ sweet upon its thoruy tree;

But my fause lover stole my rose,

But ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.