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As they went o'er moor they sang,
The hills and dales with echoes rang,
The hills and dales with echoes rang.
Gang o'er the mair to Maggie.
The BROOM of COWDEN KNOWS.
O The broom the bonny bonny broom,
the broom of the Cowden Knows,
I wish I were with my dear swain,
milking my daddy's ewes.
How blythe ilk morn was I to see,
my swain come o'er the hill,
He leapt the burn and flew to me,
I met him with good will
He tuu'd his pipe and reed sae sweet,
the birds stood list'ning by,
Ev'n the dull cattle stood amaz'd,
charm'd with his melody.
I neither wanted ewe nor lamb,
while his flock near me lay,
He gather'd in my sheep at e'en,
and cheer’d me all the day.
He did oblige me every hour,
could I but thankful be!
He stole my heart, who could refuse,
whate'er he ask'd of me.
