Wild Mountain Thyme

* * *
Oh, the summer-time has come
And the trees are sweetly bloomin',
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather;
Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together,
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather;
Will ye go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower
By yon pure, crystal fountain,
And round it I will pile
All the wild flowers of the mountain;
Will ye go, lassie, go?

I will range through the wilds
And the deep land so dreary
And return with the spoils
To the bower o' my dearie;
Will ye go, lassie, go?

If my true love will not come
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather;
Will ye go, lassie, go?