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THE
BRAES OF BALQUITHER.
Let us go, Lassie, go
to the braes of Balquither,
Where the blae-berries grow
’mang the bonnie Highland heather;
Where the deer and the rae,
lightly bounding together;
Sport the lang summer-day
on the braes o’Balquither.
I will twine thee a bow’r
by the clear siller fountain,
And I’ll cover it o’er
wi’ the flow’rs o’ the mountain;
I'll range thro’ the wilds
and the steep glens sae dreary,
And return wi’ their spoils
to the bow’r o’ my dearie.
While the lads o’ the south
toil for bare war’ly treasure,
To the lads o’ the north
ev’ry day brings its pleasure!
