| Cauld winter was howlin', o’er moor and o’er mountain
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| And wild was the surge, on the dark rolling sea.
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| When just about daybreak, I met a young lassie,
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| Wha asked me the road, and the miles to Dundee.
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| Said I' my young lassie, I canna' weel tell ye,
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| The road and the distance, I canna' weel gie,
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| But gin ye permit me, tae gang a wee bit-tie,
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| I’d show you the road, and the miles to Dundee
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| At once she consented, she gied me her airm,
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| Ne' er a word did I speir, wha the lassie micht be.
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| She appeared like an angel, in feature and form,
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| As she walked by my side, on the road to Dundee.
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| Then she took the gowd pin, that she wore at her bos-om,
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| Quoth she, tak ye this, in re-mem-brance O' me",
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| Then brave-ly I bent, aye and kissed her sweet lips,
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| E’er I part-ed wi' her, On the road to Dundee
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| So here’s to my lassie, I ne’er can for-get her
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| And il-ka young laddie, wha’s list’ning to me,
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| O nev-er be a sweer, to convoy a young lassie
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| Though it’s only to show her, the road to Dundee |