The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland

500
THE LEA-RIG.
BURNS.
Tune— r/^e Lea Rig.
When o'er the hills the eastern star
Tells biichtin-time is near, my jo ;
And owsen frae the furrowed field
Return sae doufF and weary, O ;
Down by the burn, where scented birks
Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.
In mirkest glen, at midnicht hour,
I'd rove and ne'er be eerie, O,
If through that glen I gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie, O.
Although the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae wearie, O,
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig.
My ain kind dearie, O.
YOU'RE WELCOME, WHIGS.
You're welcome, Whigs, from Bothwell brigs !
Your malice is but zeal, boys ;
Most holy sprites^ the hypocrites,
'Tis sack ye drink, not ale, boys ;
I must aver, ye cannot err,
In breaking God's command, boys ;
If ye infringe bishops or kings.
You've heaven in your hand, boys.