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 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.