Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (1766–1845)

HE’S ower the hills that I lo’e weel,

He’s ower the hills we daurna name;

He’s ower the hills ayont Dunblane,

Wha soon will get his welcome hame.

My faither’s gane to fecht for him,

My brithers winna bide at hame;

My mither greets and prays for them,

And, ’deed, she thinks they’re no to blame.

The Whigs may scoff, the Whigs may jeer,

But ah! that love maun be sincere

Which still keeps true whate’er betide,

And for his sake leaves a’ beside.

His right these hills, his right these plains;

O’er Hieland hearts secure he reigns;

What lads e’er did our lads will do;

Were I a laddie I’d follow him too.

Sae noble a look, sae princely an air,

Sae gallant and bold, sae young and sae fair;

O did ye but see him ye’d do as we’ve done;

Hear him but once, to his standard you’ll run.

He’s ower the hills that I lo’e weel;

He’s ower the hills we daurna name;

He’s ower the hills ayont Dunblane,

Wha soon will get his welcome hame.