Of a‘the lads in tinwald woun

the lovely fair, the black or broun

there never was sae droll a loon

as bonnie Johnnie Lowrie

my dad a peck o‘lint did sow

I gaed top see how it did grow

when wha come skipping owre the knowe

but bonnie Johnnie Lowrie



terry owden dowden day

the queerest loon in laich or brae

is bonnie Johnnie Lowrie



I wandred oot to weed the same

my laddie ken‘d I was frae hame

to follow me ha wasna lame

my bonnie Johnnie Lowrie

I took the flax unto the mill

my jewel fo 5llow‘d after still

and coming hame I gat a gill

frae bonnie Johnnie Lowrie



terry owden dowden day ...



at last, a‘e night, into the park

I met with him when it was dark

and, oh, the kissin‘ that I gat

frae bonnie Johnnie Lowrie

but Johnnie‘s true, he did me wed

yestreen before the priest we gaed

I carena noo for man or dad

sin‘ I hae Johnnie Lowrie



terry owden dowden day ...



a fig, say I, for jacking grown

or priest or elder in the toun

I‘ll tak‘ the warld, rough and roun‘

wi‘ bonnie Johnnie Lowrie