This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
On Ettrick clear there grows a brier,
An' monie a bonnie bloomin' shaw;
But Peggy's grown the fairest flower
The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose;
Her e'e the violet set wi' dew;
The liy's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
Had I her hame at my wee house,
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
O sae blythe! an' O sae cheery!
O sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggy's dearer far to me.