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I. love: PERSONAL 6[ |
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No. 59. Nae gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair. |
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Nae gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae
fair, Shall ever be my Muse's care : Their titles a' are empty show— Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
Chorus.
Within the glen sae bushy, O! Aboon the plain sae rashy, O! I set me down wi' right gude will To sing my Highland lassie, O!
O, were yon hills and vallies 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.
She has my heart, she has my hand, By secret troth and honor's band ! 'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me
low, I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O.
Chorus.
Farewell the glen sae bushy, O ! Fareweel the plain sae rashy, O! To other lands I now must go To sing my Highland lassie, O! |
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