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Ower the Hills an' Far Away (6) Ower the hills and far away, It's ower the hills and far away; Ower the hills and ower the sea The wind has blawn my plaid frae me. My tartan plaid, my ae good sheet, That keepit me frae wind and weet, And held me bien baith night and day, ls ower the hills and far away. There was a wind it cam to me, Ower the south and ower the sea, And it has blawn my corn and hay, Ower the hills and far away. It blew my corn, it blew my gear, It neither left me kid nor steer, And blew my plaid, my only stay, Ower the hills and far away. But though 'tis left me bare indeed And blawn my bonnet off my head, There'e something hid in Highland brae It hasna blown my sword away. Then ower the hills and ower the dales, Owerall England and through Wales, The broadsword yet shall bear the sway Ower the hills and far away. From The Songs of Scotland, publisher Maurice Ogle RG
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