Shores of Loch Tay, by Tam McAullich
It was a fine March morning, I bid Balquidder adieu,
I took the road to auld Dunmore,
My fortune to renew,
I cursed all sassanach money,
No credit could I gain,
Till I fell in love with a Highland Lass,
On the shores of Loch Tay.
She took me into her mothers Dun,
And treated me quite well.
And the hair upon her shoulders,
In golden waves it fell.
To try and paint her beuty,
I knew would be in vain.
So handsome was my highland lass,
On the shores of Loch Tay.
I asked if she might marry me,
She said that ne’er would be.
For she had got a lover,
And he was far away.
She said that she wuld wait for him,
True she would remain.
Till he returned to his highland lass,
By the shores of Loch Tay.
So it’s fair the well, my highland lass,
We never will see you more.
But we won’t forget your kindness,
In the cottage by the shore.
And at each summer gathering,
A foaming bowl I’ll raise.
And I’ll drink to the life of the highland lass,
On the shores of Loch Tay.