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10

THE HIGHLAND PLAID.

Lowland lassie wilt thou go,

Whar the hills are clad wi' snow;

Whar beneath the icy steep,

The hardy shepherd tends his sheep;

Nae ill, nor wae shall thee betide,

I'll row thee in my Highland plaid.

When the simmer spreads the flow'rs,

And busks the glens in leafy bow'rs,

Then we'll seek the caller shade,

And lean us on the primrose bed,

And while the burning hours preside,

I'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid.

Then we'll leave the sheep an' goat,

I will launch the bonny boat,

Skim the loch in canty glee,

And rest the oars to pleasure thee:

When chilly breezes sweep the tide,

I'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid.

Lowland lads may dress mair fine,

Woo in words mair saft than mine;

Lowland lads hae mair o' art,

A' my boast's an honest heart,

Whilk shall for ever be my pride—

O row thee in my Highland plaid!