As I roved out one fine summer's morn
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'Mang lofty hills, moorlands and mountains
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Wha should I spy but a fair young maid
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As I wi' others was out a hunting
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No shoes nor stockings did she wear
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And neither had she cap nor feather
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But her golden hair hung in ringlets fair
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The gentle breeze blew 'round her shoulders
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I said, "Braw lass why roam your lane?
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Why roam your lane amang the heather?"
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She said, "My father's awa' frae hame
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And I'm herding a' his yowes thegether"
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I said, "Braw lass gin ye'll be mine
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And care tae lie in a bed o' feather
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In silks and satins you shall shine
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Ye'll be my queen amang the heather"
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She said, "Kind sir your offer's fine
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But I'm afraid 'twas meant for laughter
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For I see you are some rich squire's son
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And I am but a poor shepherd's daughter"
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"But had ye been a shepherd loon
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Herding yowes in yonder valley
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Or had ye been the plooman's son
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Wi' a' my heart I could a' loo'd thee"
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I've been tae balls and I've been tae halls
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I've been tae London and Balquidder
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But the bonniest lass that e'er I saw
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Was herding yowes amang the heather
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Queen Amangst The Heather
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Andy M. Stewart |