歌词
When o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary
O; Down by the burn, where birken buds
Wi' dew are hangin clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind
Dearie O.
At midnight hour, in mirkest glen,
I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie,
O, If thro' that glen
I gaed to thee,
My ain kind
Dearie O;
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae weary
O, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind
Dearie O.
The hunter lo'es the morning sun;
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen
Adown the burn to steer, my jo:
Gie me the hour o' gloamin' grey,
It maks my heart sae cheery
O, To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind
Dearie O.