II.
The westlin wind blaws loud an’ shrill;
The night’s baith mirk and rainy, O;
But I’ll get my plaid, an’ out I’ll steal,
An’ owre the hills to Nannie, O.
III.
My Nannie’s charming, sweet, an’ young;
Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O:
May ill befa’ the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O.
IV.
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she’s bonnie, O:
The op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew,
Nae purer is than Nannie, O.
V.
A country lad is my degree,
An’ few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be?
I’m welcome ay to Nannie, O.
VI.
My riches a’s my penny-fee,
An’ I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl’s gear ne’er troubles me,
My thoughts are a’ my Nannie, O.