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The Song Book
With his philabeg and his tartan plaid, And good claymore down by his side, The ladies' hearts he did trepan, My gallant braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c.
We've ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, And liv'd like lords and ladies gay ; For a lawland face he feared none, My gallant braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c.
They banish'd him beyond the sea, But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, Embracing my John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c.
But O, they catch'd him at the last, And bound him in a dungeon fast; My curse upon them every one, They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c.
And now a widow I must mourn Departed joys that ne'er return; No comfort but a hearty can, When I think on John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c.
Words by Burns.
Tune T/te White Cockade. |
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