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 Sweet were the hours when he row't me in his plaidie, O,

An’ vow’t to be mine, my dear Highland laddie, O.

But ah, waes me! wi’ their sodg’ring sae gaudy, O,

The laird’e wyst awa’ my braw Highland laddie, O;

Misty are the glens, and the dark hills sae cloudy, O,

That aye seem’d sae blythe wi’ my dear Highland laddie, O.

The blaeberry banks are now lonesome and drearie, O,

Muddy are the streams that gush’d down sae clearly, O,

Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O,

The wild-melting strains o’ my dear Highland laddie, O.

Oh! love is like the morning, sae gladsome and bonnie, O,

Till winds fa’ a storming, and clouds lower sae rainy, O,

As nature in winter droops, withering sae sadly, O,

Sae lang may I mourn for my dear Highland laddie, O.

He pu’d me the crawberry ripe frae the boggie fen,

He pu'd me the strawberry, red frae the foggie glen,

He pu'd me the rowan frae the wild steep sae giddy, O,

Sae loving and kind was my dear Highland laddie, O.

sun had gane down o’er the lofty Benlomond,

An’ left the red clouds to preside o’er the scene,

While lanely I stray’d in a calm simmer gloamin,

To muse on sweet Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.

How sweet is the brier, wi’ its saft folding blossom,

An’ sweet is the birk, wi’ its mantle o’ green;

Yet sweeter, an’ fairer, an’ dear to this bosom,

Is lovely young Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.

Is lovely, &c.

She's modest as ony, an' blyth as she’s bonny,

For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;

An’ far be the villain, divested o’ feeling,

Wad blight in its bloom the sweet flower o’ Dumblain.

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e’ening,

Thou’rt dear to the echoes o’ Calderwood glen;

Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,

Is charming young Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.

Is charming, &c.