Isobel Pagan.
1740-1821
CA the yowes1 to the knowes,2 Ca them where the heather grows, Ca them where the burnie
rows,3 My bonnie dearie.
As I gaed down the water side, There I met my shepherd lad; He rowd4 me sweetly in his
plaid, And he cad me his dearie.
Will ye gang down the water side, And see the waves sae sweetly glide Beneath the hazels
spreading wide? The moon it shines fu clearly.
I was bred up at nae sic school, My shepherd lad, to play the fool, And a the day to sit in
dool,5 And naebody to see me.
Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, And in my arms
yese lie and sleep, And ye sall be my dearie.
If yell but stand to what yeve said, Ise gang wi you, my shepherd lad, And ye may row me
in your plaid, And I sall be your dearie.
While waters wimple to the sea, While day blinks in the lift6 sae hie, Till clay-cauld death sall
blin my ee, Ye aye sall be my dearie!
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