Behind yon hill where Stinchar flows

Behind yon hill where Stinchar flows, Many moors and masses many O; The wintry sun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nannie O.

The whistling wind blows loud and shrill, The night's baith mirk and rainy O; But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal, And o'er the hill to Nannie O.

My Nannie's charming, sweet and young, Nae artfu' wiles to win ye O; May ill befa' the flattering tongue, That wad beguile my Nannie O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true, As spotless as she's bonnie O; The op'ning gowan wet wi dew, Nae purer is than Nannie O.

A country lad is my degree, An few they be that ken me O; But what care I how few they be; I'm welcome to my Nannie O.

My riches a's my penny fee, And I maun guide it cannie O; But wardly gear ne'er troubles me, My thoughts are a' my Nannie O.

Our auld gude man delights to view His sheep an kyne thrive bonnie O; But I'm as blithe that haulds this pleugh, And ha na care but Nannie O.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I'll tak what heaven will send me O; Nae ither care in life leave I, But live and love my Nannie O.