Oh! Send Lewie Gordon hame,
An the lad I daurna name;
Tho’ his back be at the wa’;
Here’s to him that’s far awa’.
Chorus:
Ohon! My Hielandman;
Oh! My bonnie Hielandman;
Weel wid I my true love ken,
Amang ten thousand Hielandmen.
Oh! To see his tartan trews,
Bonnet blue and laigh-heeled shoes,
Philabeg upon his knee,
That’s the lad that I’ll gang wi’.
The princely youth of whom I sing,
Is fitted for to be a king;
On his breast he bears a star –
You’d take him for the god of war.
Oh! To see the princely one.
Seated on a royal throne,
Troubles a’ wad disappear,
Then begin the jubilee year.
