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letra de the learig - karine polwart

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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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