One morning in springtime as day was a-dawning, Bright Phoebus had risen from over the lea, I espied a fair maiden as homeward she wandered From herding her flocks on the hills o f Glenshee.
I stood in amazement, says I, “Pretty fair maid. If you will come down to St. Johnston with me, There's ne'er been a lady set foot in my castle. There's ne'er been a lady dressed grander than thee.
“A coach and six horses to go at your bidding, And all they that speak shall say ma'am unto thee, Fine servants to serve you and go at your bidding, I'll make you my bride, my sweet lass of Glenshee.”
“Oh, what do I care for your castles and coaches, And what do I care for your gay conjuring? I would rather be home in my cot, at my spinning Or herding my flocks on the hills of Glenshee.”
“Away with such nonsense and get up beside me. E'er summer comes on my sweet bride you will be And then in my arms I will gently caress thee.” ‘Twas then she consented, I took her with me.
Seven years have rolled on since we were united, There's many a change, but there's no change on me, And my love she's as fair as that morn on the mountain When I plucked me a wild rose on the hills of GlensheeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
