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 Soon the voice of cheary spring

Will gar a’ our plantins ring,

Soon our bonny heather braes,

Will put on their summer claes;

On the mountain's sunny side

We’ll lean us on my Highland plaid.

When the simmer spreads the flow'rs

Basks the glens in leafy bow'rs,

Then we'll seek the caller 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,

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 then mine,

Lowland lads hae mair of art,

A’ my boast’s an honest heart;

Whilk shall ever be my pride,

O row thee in my Highland plaid.

“ Bonny lad ye've been sae leal,

“ My heart would break at our farewell,