And she's sent us out wi' her blessing.
Chorus: And it's shouther to shouther, etc.
Her land's no rick; and her crops are slim;
And I winna say much for the weather;
But she's given us legs that can gaily clim'
Up the slopes o' the blossoming heather.
Chorus: And it's shouther to shouther, etc.
And she's given us hearts that, whatever they say
(And I trow that we might be better)
There's one sair fault they never will hae—