From Popular Ballads and Songs, Volume 2 by Robert Jamieson (Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co., 1806), page 149:

LIZIE LINDSAY.

Transmitted to the Editor by Professor Scott of Aberdeen, as it was taken down from the recitation of an Old Woman. It is very popular in the north east of Scotland, and was familiar to the editor in his early youth; and from the imperfect recollection which he still retains of it, he has corrected the text in two or three unimportant passages.

"Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay,
Will ye go to the Highlands wi' me
Will ye go to the Highlands, Lizie Lindsay,
And dine on fresh cruds and green whey?"

Then out spak Lizie's mother,
A good old lady was she,
"Gin ye say sic a word to my daughter,
I'll gar ye be hanged high."

"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;
Keep weel your daughter frae me;
I care as little for your daughter,
As ye can care for me."

Then out spak Lizie's ain maiden,
A bonny young lassie was she;
Says,--"were I the heir to a kingdom,
Awa' wi' young Donald I'd be."

"O say you sae to me, Nelly?
And does my Nelly say sae?
Maun I leave my father and mother,
Awa' wi' young Donald to gae?"

And Lizie's ta'en till her her stockings,
And Lizie's ta'en till her her shoen;
And kilted up her green claithing,
And awa' wi' young Donald she's gane.

The road it was lang and weary;
The braes they were ill to climb;
Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling,
And a fit furder coudna win.

And sair, O sair did she sigh,
And the saut tear blin'd her e'e;
"Gin this be the pleasures o' looing,
They never will do wi' me!"

"Now, haud your tongue, bonny Lizie;
Ye never shall rue for me;
Gi'e me but your love for my love,
It is a that your tocher will be.

"And haud your tongue, bonny Lizie;
Altho' that the gait seem lang,
And you's ha'e the wale o' good living
Whan to Kincawsen we gang.

"There my father he is an auld cobler,
My mother she is an auld dey;
And we'll sleep on a bed o' green rashes,
And dine on fresh cruds and green whey."

* * * * *
* * * * *
"You're welcome hame, Sir Donald,
You're welcome hame to me."

"O ca' me nae mair sir Donald;
There's a bonny young lady to come;
Sae ca' me nae mair Sir Donald,
But ae spring Donald your son."

"Ye're welcome hame, young Donald;
Ye're welcome hame to me;
Ye're welcome hame, young Donald,
And your bonny young lady wi' ye."

She's made them a bed of green rashes,
Weel cover'd wi' hooding o' grey;
Bonny Lizie was weary wi' travelling,
And lay till 'twas lang o' the day.

"The sun looks in o'er the hill-head,
And the laverock is liltin' gay;
Get up, get up, bonny Lizie,
You've lain till its lang o' the day.

"You might ha'e been out at the shealin,
Instead o' sae lang to lye,
And up and helping my mother
To milk baith her gaits and kye.

Then out spak Lizie Lindsay,
The tear blindit her eye;
"The ladies o' Edinburgh city
They neither milk gaits nor kye."

Then up spak young Sir Donald,
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * *

"For I am the laird o' Kincawsyn,
And you are the lady free;
And * * * * *
* * * * * *