When o’er the hill the eastern starTells bughtin time is near, my jo,And owsen frae the furrow’d fieldReturn sae dowf and weary O;Down by the burn, where birken budsWi’ dew are hangin clear, my jo,I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig,My ain kind Dearie O.8
At midnight hour, in mirkest glen,I’d rove, and ne’er be eerie, O,If thro’ that glen I gaed to 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.16
The hunter lo’es the morning sun;To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;At noon the fisher seeks the glenAdown the burn to steer, my jo:Gie me the hour o’ gloamin’ grey,It maks my heart sae cheery O,To meet thee on the lea-rig,My ain kind Dearie O.24