I’ll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig

When o’er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtintime is near, my jo,
And owsenfraethe furrow’d field
Return sae dowfand weary O;
Down bythe burn, where birkenbuds
Wi’dew are hangin clear, my jo,
I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind Dearie O.

At midnight hour, in mirkest glen,
I’d rove, and ne’er be eerie, O,
If thro’ that glen I gaedto thee,
My ain kind Dearie O;
Altho’ the night were ne’er sae wild,
And I were ne’er sae weary O,
I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind Dearie O.

The hunter lo’es the morning sun;
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen
Adown the burnto steer, my jo:
Gieme the hour o’gloamin’ grey,
It maks my heart saecheery O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ainkind Dearie O.