The Book of Scottish Song/The Brakens wi' me

The Brakens wi' me.

[James Hogg.—Air, "Driving the Steer."]

I'll sing of yon glen o' red heather,
⁠An' a dear thing that ca's it her hame,
Wha's a' made o' love life together,
⁠Frae the tie o' the shoe to the kembe.
Love beckons in ev'ry sweet motion,
⁠Commanding due homage to gi'e;
But the shrine of my dearest devotion
⁠Is the bend o' her bonnie e'e bree.

I fleech'd and I prayd the dear lassie
⁠To gang to the brakens wi' me,
But though neither lordly nor saucy,
⁠Her answer was, "Laith will I be.
Ah! is it nae cruel to press me
⁠To that which wad breed my heart wae,
An' try to entice a poor lassie
⁠The gate she's o'er ready to gae.

"I neither ha'e father nor mither,
⁠Good counsel or caution to gi'e,
And prudence has whisper'd me never
⁠To gang to the brakens wi' thee.
I neither ha'e tocher nor mailings,
⁠I ha'e but ae boast—I am free;
But a' wad be tint, without failing,
⁠Amang the green brakens wi' thee."

"Dear lassie, how can ye upbraid me,
⁠And by your ain love to beguile,
For ye are the richest young lady
⁠That ever gaed o'er the kirk-stile?
Your smile that is blither than ony,
⁠The bend o' your sunny e'e-bree,
And the love-blinks aneath it sae bonnie
⁠Are five hunder thousand to me."

There's joy in the blythe blooming feature,
⁠When love lurks in every young line;
There's joy in the beauties of nature,
⁠There's joy in the dance and the wine;
But there's a delight will ne'er perish
⁠'Mong pleasures so fleeting and vain,
And that is to love and to cherish
⁠The fond little heart that's our ain.

---