Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path, and open Strath, We'll wander Scotland through ; But, though so near, we will not turn Into the dale of Yarrow.
" Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow ; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow ! We will not see them ; will not go, To-day, nor yet to-morrow ; Enough if in our hearts we know There's such a place as Yarrow.
" Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown ! It must, or we shall rue it:. We have a vision of our own ; Ah ! why should we undo it ? The treasured dreams of times long past, We'll keep them, winsome Marrow ! For when we're there, although 'tis fair, 'Twill be another Yarrow !
" If Care with freezing years should come,
And wandering seem but folly,
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy ;
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
'Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth hath something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow ! "