Young Jemmy was a Highland lad,
That oft--times cross'd the burn to me;
He wore the bonnet, trows, and plaid,
Wi' garters green below his knee:
Of a' the shepherds west the Tweed,
By ilka ane it is agreed,
There's nane cou'd tune the oaten reed,
Like bonny Jem that's o'er the sea.

May ill befa' the silly loons
Wha sent young Jemmy far frae me;
How dreary now are a' the towns,
Where shepherds pip'd sae merrily:
How waefu' now upo' the plain,
Where younkers danc'd wi' hearts right fain;
For now ilk lassie mourns her swain,
And sighs for him that's o'er the sea.

When last we met, ah, luckless morn!
'Twas underneath the greenwood tree;
But soon he frae my arms was torn,
Just as he vow'd to marry me:
Yet, when the cruel wars are o'er,
And shepherds hail their native shore,
I hope to meet, and part no more,
Wi' bonny Jem that's o'er the sea.