Ca' the Yowes

Call the ewes to the knowes,

Call them where the heather grows,

Call them where the burnie rowes,

My bonny dearie

As I went down the water-side,

'Twas there I met my shepherd lad;

He rolled me sweetly in his plaid,

And called me I his dearie.

Will ye come down the water-side,

To see the fishes sweetly glide

Beneath the hazels spreading wide,

And the moon that shines full clearly.

If you'll but stand to what you've said,

I'll come with you, my bonny lad,

And you may roll me in your plaid,

And I shall be your dearie.

You shall get gowns and ribbons meet,

And leather shoen upon your feet,

And in my arms you'll lie and sleep,

My bonny dearie.

While waters wimple to the sea,

While day breaks in the sky so high,

Till clay-cold death shall blind my eye,

Ye I shall be my dearie.