The Jacobite Lass

My love stood at the loanin' side
    An' held me by the hand,
The bonniest lad that e'er did bide
    In a' this waefu' land -
There's but ae bonnier to be seen
    Frae Pentland to the sea,
And for his sake but yestre'en
    I sent my love frae me.

I gi'ed my love the white white rose
    That's at my feyther's wa',
It is the bonniest flower that grows
    Whaur ilka flower is braw;
There's but ae bonnier that I ken
    Frae Perth unto the main,
An' that's the flower o' Scotland's men
    That's fechtin' for his ain.

Gin I had kept whate'er was mine
    As I hae gie'd my best,
My he'rt were licht by day, and syne
    The nicht wad bring me rest;
There is nae heavier he'rt to find
    Frae Forfar toon to Ayr,
As aye I sit me doon to mind
    On him I see nae mair.

Lad, gin ye fa' by Chairlie's side
    To rid this land o' shame,
There winna be a prooder bride
    Than her ye left at hame,
But I will seek ye whaur ye sleep
    Frae lawlands to the peat,
An ilka nicht at mirk I'll creep
    To lay me at yer feet.