Behind yon hills where Lugar flows,’Mang moors an’ mosses many, O,The wintry sun the day has clos’d,And I’ll awa to Nanie, O.4
The westlin wind blaws loud an’ shill;The night’s baith mirk and rainy, O;But I’ll get my plaid an’ out I’ll steal,An’ owre the hill to Nanie, O.8
My Nanie’s charming, sweet, an’ young;Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O:May ill befa’ the flattering tongueThat wad beguile my Nanie, O.12
Her face is fair, her heart is true;As spotless as she’s bonie, O:The op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew,Nae purer is than Nanie, O.16
A country lad is my degree,An’ few there be that ken me, O;But what care I how few they be,I’m welcome aye to Nanie, O.20
My riches a’s my penny-fee,An’ I maun guide it cannie, O;But warl’s gear ne’er troubles me,My thoughts are a’ my Nanie, O.24
Our auld guidman delights to viewHis sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O;But I’m as blythe that hands his pleugh,An’ has nae care but Nanie, O.28
Come weel, come woe, I care na by;I’ll tak what Heav’n will sen’ me, O:Nae ither care in life have I,But live, an’ love my Nanie, O.32