Three score o' nobles rade up the King's ha'
But bonnie Glenogie's the flow'r o' them a'
Wi' his milkwhite steed and his bonnie black e'e,
"Glenogie, dear mither, Glenogie for me!"

"Haund your tongue, dochter, there's better than he"
"O say na sae, mither, for that canna be;
Tho' Doumlie is greater and richer than he,
Yet if I maun tak' him, I'll certainly dee."

"There is, Glenogie, a letter for thee,
O there is, Gleogie, a letter for thee!"
The first line he look'd at, a licht lauch lauched he,
But ere he had read thro't tears blinded his e'e.

Then to Glenfeldy's but sma' mirth was there,
An bonnie Jean's mither was tearin' her hair,
"Ye're welcome, Glenogie, ye're welcome, quo' she,
"Ye're welcome, Glenogie, your Jeanie to see."

Pale and wan was she when Glenogie gae'd ben,
But rosy red grew she when e'er he sat doun;
She turned awa' wi' a smile in her e'e.
"O dinna fear, mither, I'll maybe no dee!"