Green sleeves and tartan ties Mark my true love where she lies; I'll be at her or she rise, My fiddle and I thegither,- Be it by the chrystal burn, Be it by the mill-white thorn, I shall rouse her in the morn, My fiddle and I thegither.-
Green sleeves and tartan ties Mark my true love where she lies; I'll be at her or she rise, My fiddle and I thegither,- Be it by the chrystal burn, Be it by the mill-white thorn, I shall rouse her in the morn, My fiddle and I thegither.-