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Meet Me By the Sheiling Lass ©

Patrick Scott Hogg
Cumbernauld, Scotland

Tell me hae ye been, my lass,
Whar the rowan and bracken grow?
On the Ben across the moor, my lass,
Where the Winter sheds her snow?
Old Clachans are now rubble dear,
Good people forced to leave -
But the beauty o' this landscape
Must be seen to be believed.

Meet me by the sheiling, lass,
That looks o'er the winding river;
We'll climb up tae the bothy, lass,
Where the rocks endure forever.

In the shadow o' the mountain, lass,
Hangs a heavy-hearted mist.
In the gloaming ye should see it, lass,
By the river softly kissed.
Aye ma bonnie lassie O'
Ye can hear the ghostly calling,
Their spirits haunt these glens at night,
The rain's their tears a-falling.


They starved and died in Sutherland,
Or to America they fled;
On bridal boats from Glasgow toun,
Where last farewells were said:
One day the pain will leave this land,
The rocks will weep and sing -
So lass, hold out your tender hand,
And accept this wedding ring.

Chorus: & end

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