On yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I’d shelter thee:
Or did misfortune’s bitter storms
Around thee blaw,
Thy shield should be my bosom
To share it a'; to share it a’.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare,
The desert were a paradise
If thou wert there.
Or were I monarch of the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.