1: I ken a lass she has nae name,
Nor hame that she wad own to;
She traivels lighter than the swan,
That builds it's nest on Lochan Dhu.
Chorus:
It's will ye bundle and will ye go,
Or are ye want tae leave me?
It's will ye bundle and will ye go,
Or up the Shian wi me?
2: Let Inverara folk look doon,
She’s sunshine tae the Shira;
And gangs mair braw in her apron,
Than they in aa their gear.
3: Her hands sae rough wi weary work,
The mair her face entrances
As whiter blooms the April thorn,
Upon its blackened branches.
Chorus:
4: The flooer that twines in yon broon hedge,
Grows sweet for the wayfarer;
But I wouldna gie my traiveller’s joy,
For the Rose o Inverara.
5: Wi dooncast eyes she’ll pass us by,
Withoot a word for ony;
Just like the little mountain rose,
As bleek and dour and bonny.
Chorus:
6: I ken a lass she had nae hairt,
And she’s awa tae leave us;
She’s gane aa through the mountain range,
Nae mair she says she’ll see us.
Chorus:
It's will ye bundle and will ye go,
Or are ye want tae leave me?
It's will ye bundle and will ye go,
Or up the Shian wi me? |