oh, wither away, my bonny maid
Sac late & sac far in the C)O"ing'
The mist gathers gray on the moorland and brac
oh wither sac far are re roaming'
        Oh you take the high road and I'll take the low
        I'll be in Scotland afore ye
        For me & my true love will never meet again
        By the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond

1 trusted my &in love last night in the gloom
My donald wha love's me sac dearly
On the morrow he will march for Edinborough town
Tac fight for his king and Prince Charlic
        Oh, weel may I weep for yestre'en in my sleep
        We stood bride and bridegroom together
        But his arms and his breath were as cold as the death
        And his heart's blood ran red in the heather

As dauntless in battle, as tender in love
He'd yield ne'er a foot tme the foeman
but never again frac the field O' the slain
To his Moire will he come by Loch Lomond
        The thistle may bloom, the king bac his ain
        And fond lovers will meet in the gloaming'
        And me and my true love will yet meet again
        par above the bonny banks of Loch Lomond ~