II.

See you not yon hills and dales, The sun shines on sae brawlie! They a' are mine, and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie. They a' are mine, and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.

Ye shall gang in gay attire, Weel buskit up sae gaudy; And ane to wait on every hand, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie. And ane to wait on every hand, Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.