Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Collection of ancient and modern Scottish ballads, tales, and songs > Volume 2

278
O he's a ranting, roving lad.
He is a brisk an a bonny lad,
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi' the white cockade.
Vl\ sell my rock, my reel, my tow.
My glide gray mare, and hawkit cow.
To buy mysel a tartan plaid.
To follow the boy wi' the white cockade.
O he's a ranting, &c.
MY DEAR HIGHLAND LADDIE, O.
Air — Morneen I Gaberland.
Blythe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, O,^
Happy war the days when we herded thegither,, O,
Sweet war the hours when he row't me in his plaidie, O,
An' vow't to be mine, my dear Highland laddie, O ;
But ah, waes me ! wi' their sodg'ring sae gaudy, O,
The laird's wys't away my braw Highland laddie, O ;
Misty are the glens, and the dark hills sae cloudy, O^
That ay seem't sae blythe wi' my dear Highland
laddie, O.
The blae-berry banks now are lonesome and dreary, O,
Muddy are the streams that gush'd down sae clearly, O;,
Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O,
The wild-melting strains o' my dear Highland laddie, O.
Oh ! love is like the morning, sae gladsome and
bonny, O,
Till winds fa' a-storming, and clouds low'r sae rainy, O:
As nature in winter droops withering sae sadly, O,
Sae lang may I mourn for my dear Highland laddie, O.