“ To the Highlands, my jewel, I will not go with thee,
For the road it is long, and the hills they are high,
love those vallies and sweet corn fields,
More than all the blaeberries your wild mountains yield. ”

“ He’s a rude Highland fellow, as poor as a crow,
He’s of the clan of Caithness for ought that I know.
But if you go with him. I’m sure you’ll go bare,
You’ll have nothing father or mother can spare,
Of all I possess I’ll deprive you for aye,
If o’er the hills, lassie, you go away.
It’s father, keep what you are not willing to give,
For fain would I go with him, as sure as I live;
What signifies gold or treasure to me,
If the Highland hills is between my love and me. ”

“ To such a faithful lover, oh, who would not comply,
True love gives purer pleasure than aught beneath the sky,
If love be in your bosom, my heart can ne’er be sad,
And thro’ life I’ll lo’e the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid. ”