I.

Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair, Shall ever be my muse's care: Their titles a' are empty show; Gie me my Highland lassie, O. Within the glen sae bushy, O, Aboon the plains sae rushy, O, I set me down wi' right good-will, To sing my Highland lassie, O.

Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine, Yon palace and yon gardens fine, The world then the love should know I bear my Highland lassie, O.

But fickle fortune frowns on me, And I maun cross the raging sea; But while my crimson currents flow, I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, I know her heart will never change, For her bosom burns with honour's glow, My faithful Highland lassie, O.

For her I'll dare the billows' roar, For her I'll trace a distant shore, That Indian wealth may lustre throw Around my Highland lassie, O.