The Lass Of Glenshee

One morning in springtime as day was a-dawning

Bright Phoebus had risen from over the lea

I spied a fair maiden as homeward she wandered

From herding her flocks on the hills of Glenshee

I stood in amazement, says I, "Pretty fair maid

If you will come down to St. John's Town with me

There's ne'er been a lady set foot in my castle

There's ne'er been a lady dressed grander than thee"

A coach and six horses to go at your bidding

And all men that speak shall say "ma'am unto thee

Fine servants to serve you and go at your bidding

I'll make you my bride, my sweet lass of Glenshee

"Oh what do I care for your castles and coaches?

And what do I care for your gay grandeury?

I'd rather be home at my cot, at my spinning

Or herding my flocks on the hills of Glenshee"

"Away with such nonsense and get up beside me

E'er summer comes on my sweet bride you will be

And then in my arms I will gently caress thee"

'Twas then she consented, I took her with me

Seven years have rolled on since we were united

There's many's a change, but there's no change on me

And my love, she's as fair as that morn on the mountain

When I plucked me a wild rose on the hills of Glenshee

1