Robert Tannahill, The Song Book No. 4 (1840)
“ When chilly breezes sweep the tide,I'll hap thee wi' my Highland Plaid.Lowland lads may dress mair fine,Woo in words mair saft than mine;Lowland lads hae mair of art,A' my boast's an honest heart, Whilk shall ever be my pride ”
