None of that Matters

Fair bonnie lady, dressed braw for the cèilidh,
Dance me a reel and I'll tarry awhile,
I'll pluck you a tune on these lyrical strings,
My fortune is yours for the price of a smile.

And she said "None of that matters to me."

Stormy the weather, though soft lies the heather,
To lay with my lassie on fine Harris tweed,
Ye shall have rings in the purest of gold,
So nary a bauble milady will need.

And she said "None of that matters to me."

A fortress I'll build in the snow covered hills,
And no finer caisteal you'll ever behold,
Here shall you jig through your musical days,
Cosh in my arms when the winter blows cold.

And she said "None of that matters to me."

"Musician", she said wi' a shake o' her heid,
"You spinner of wildest whigmaleerie tales,
Who'll hold my sweet hand as you ride through the land,
To charm other lassies in Scotland and Wales?"

And she said; "All of that matters to me."
Yes, she said; "All of that matters to me."

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