Il testo della The lea-rig

Andy M. Stewart

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When o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary o;
Down by the burn, where birken buds
Wi' dew are hangin clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie o.

At midnight hour, in mirkest glen,
I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, o,
If thro' that glen i gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie o;
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And i were ne'er sae weary o,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie o.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun;
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen
Adown the burn to steer, my jo:
Gie me the hour o' gloamin' grey,
It maks my heart sae cheery o,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie o.

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