Fareweel, ye bughts, an' all your ewes, An' fields whare bIoomin' heather grows; Nae mair the sportin' lambs I'll see Since my true love's forsaken me.
Sweet Ravelrig, I ne'er could part From thee, but wi' a dowie heart. When I think on the happy days I spent in youth about your braes, When innocence my steps did guide,...