The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill With biography, illustrations, and music |
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YOUNG DONALD AND HIS LAWLAN BRIDE. |
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 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
20
YOUNG DONALD AND HIS LAWLAN BRIDE.
Lawlan lassie, wilt thou go
Where the hills are clad wi' snow;
Where, beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep?
Ill, nor wae, shall thee betide,
When row'd within my Hielan' plaid.
Where the hills are clad wi' snow;
Where, beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep?
Ill, nor wae, shall thee betide,
When row'd within my Hielan' plaid.
Soon the voice o' cheery spring
Will gar a' our plantin's ring;
Soon our bonnie heather braes
Will put on their simmer claes;
On the mountain's sunny side
We 'll lean us on my Hielan' plaid.
Will gar a' our plantin's ring;
Soon our bonnie heather braes
Will put on their simmer claes;
On the mountain's sunny side
We 'll lean us on my Hielan' plaid.
When the simmer spreads her flow'rs,
Busks the glen 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 Hielan' plaid.
Busks the glen 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 Hielan' plaid.
Then we 'll leave the sheep and goat,
I will launch the bonnie boat,
Skim the loch in cantie glee,
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I 'll hap thee wi' my Hielan' plaid.
I will launch the bonnie boat,
Skim the loch in cantie glee,
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I 'll hap thee wi' my Hielan' plaid.
Lawlan lads may dress mair fine,
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lawlan lads ha'e mair o' airt;
A' my boast 's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride:
To row thee in my Hielan' plaid!
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lawlan lads ha'e mair o' airt;
A' my boast 's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride:
To row thee in my Hielan' plaid!
21
“Bonnie lad, ye 've been sae leel,
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain:
Tak' me,—tak' me for your ain!”
'Cross the Firth awa' they glide,
Young Donald and his Lawlan bride.
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain:
Tak' me,—tak' me for your ain!”
'Cross the Firth awa' they glide,
Young Donald and his Lawlan bride.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |