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Poem	Chorus.—Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rowes, My bonie dearie AS I gaed down the water-side, There I met my shepherd lad: He row’d me sweetly in his plaid, And he ca’d me his dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. Will ye gang down the water-side, And see the waves sae sweetly glide Beneath the hazels spreading wide, The moon it shines fu’ clearly. Ca’ the yowes, &c. Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep, An’ ye sall be my dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, I’se gang wi’ thee, my shepherd lad, And ye may row me in your plaid, And I sall be your dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. While waters wimple to the sea, While day blinks in the lift sae hie, Till clay-cauld death sall blin’ my e’e, Ye sall be my dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c.
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