Gan to the Kye

Gan to the kye with me, my love Gan to the kye with me Over the moor and through the grove I'll sing ditties to thee Cushie, thy pet, is lowing Around her poor firstling's shed Tears in her eyes are flowing Because little Colly lies dead Gan to the kye... All the fine herd of cattle Thy vigilant sire possessed After his fall in battle By rebel chieftains were prest Gan to the kye... Kine now is all our property Left by thy father's will Yet if we nurse it watchfully We may win geer enow still Gan to the kye...