---

As I roved out one fine simmer's morn
Among lofty hills, moorlands, and mountains
It was there I spied a weel-faurt maid
As I wi' others was out a-hunting

No shoes nor stockings did she wear
And neither had she cap nor feather
But her golden hair hung in ringlets fair
And the gentle breeze blew round her shoulders

I said, “Braw lassie, why roam yer lane
Why roam yer lane among the heather?”
She said “My faither's awa frae home
An' I'm a herdin' all his yowes the gither.”

I said “Braw lassiе if ye'll be mine
And care taе lie on a bed o' feather
In silks and satins you will shine
And you'll be my queen among the heather.”

She said “Kind sir your offer's good
Ah, but I'm afraid 'twas meant for laughter
For I see you are a rich squire's son
And I am but a poor shepherd's daughter.”

“Ah, but had ye been a shepherd loon
A-herdin' yowes in yonder valley
Or had ye been some ploughman's son
Wi' a' my heart, I could loed ye.”

Now I've been to halls and I've been tae balls
And I hae been to London and Balquhidder
But the bonniest lass that e'er I have saw
She was herdin' yowes amang the heather

So we baith sat doon upon the plain,
We sat awhile and we talked together.
And we left the yowes to roam their lane
Whilst I loo'ed my queen amang the heather.

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