The Jacobite Lass

My love stood at the loanin' side         An' held me by the hand,     The bonniest lad that e'er did bide         In a' this waefu' land -     There's but ae bonnier to be seen         Frae Pentland to the sea,     And for his sake but yestre'en         I sent my love frae me.     I gi'ed my love the white white rose         That's at my feyther's wa',     It is the bonniest flower that grows         Whaur ilka flower is braw;     There's but ae bonnier that I ken         Frae Perth unto the main,     An' that's the flower o' Scotland's men         That's fechtin' for his ain.     Gin I had kept whate'er was mine         As I hae gie'd my best,     My he'rt were licht by day, and syne         The nicht wad bring me rest;     There is nae heavier he'rt to find         Frae Forfar toon to Ayr,     As aye I sit me doon to mind         On him I see nae mair.     Lad, gin ye fa' by Chairlie's side         To rid this land o' shame,     There winna be a prooder bride         Than her ye left at hame,     But I will seek ye whaur ye sleep         Frae lawlands to the peat,     An ilka nicht at mirk I'll creep         To lay me at yer feet.