Down Among the Heather

As I rode out one morn in May
It being fine and sunny weather,
Some miles from home I chanced to roam
Among the bonny, blooming heather

Down the moor.
Down the moor and among the heather
Down the moor and among the heather
Some miles from home I chanced to roam
Among the bonny, blooming heather
Down the moor.

I rode along to the huntsman's song
My heart being light as any feather,
Until I met with that wee lass
A-brushing the dew from off the heather

She barefoot was and homely clad
And she wore neither hat nor feather
But her plaid hung neatly 'round her waist
As she tripped o'er the blooming heather.

"Where are you going to my pretty wee lass?
By hill or dale come tell me whether?"
Right modestly she answered me:
"To the feeding of my lambs together."

We sat there from the morn to night
It being the longest day in summer
Until the beams o' the red, setting sun
Came sparkling down along the heather.

Says she, "My laddie, I must go
My ewes are straying from each other
And I'm as loath to part with you
As the wee lambs to part their mother."

Then up she got and off she went
Her name nor place I ne'er could gather
But if I were king, I'd make her queen
The lass I met among the heather.

~~~~~~~

~ Scottish Folk Song.
♫ You can listen it on YouTube.
٭ Painting "Windflowers" or "Windswept" by John William Waterhouse, 1902.

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