The Book of Scottish Song/The Hills o' Gallowa'

The Hills o' Gallowa'.

[Thomas Cunningham.—Born 1776: died 1834.]

Amang the birks sae blythe an' gay,
⁠I met my Julia hameward gaun;
The linties chauntit on the spray,
⁠The lammies loupit on the lawn;
On ilka howm the sward was mawn,
⁠The braes wi' gowans buskit bra',
An' gloamin's plaid o' gray was thrawn
⁠Out owre the hills o' Gallowa'.

Wi' music wild the woodlands rang,
⁠An' fragrance wing'd alang the lea,
As down we sat the flowers amang,
⁠Upon the banks o' stately Dee.
My Julia's arms encircled me,
⁠An' saftly slade the hours awa',
Till dawin coost a glimmerin' e'e
⁠Upon the hills o' Gallowa'.

It isna owsen, sheep, and kye,
⁠It isna gowd, it isna gear,
This lifted e'e wad ha'e, quoth I,
⁠The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer.
But gi'e to me my Julia dear,
⁠Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba',
An' O! sae blythe through life I'll steer,
⁠Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

Whan gloamin' dauners up the hill,
⁠An' our gudeman ca's hame the yowes,
Wi' her I'll trace the mossy rill
⁠That owre the muir meand'ring rowes;
Or tint amang the scroggy knowes,
⁠My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw,
An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes,
⁠The hills an' dales o' Gallowa'.

An' whan auld Scotland's heathy hills,
⁠Her rural nymphs an' jovial swains,
Her flow'ry wilds an' wimpling rills,
⁠Awake nae mair my canty strains;
Whare friendship dwells an' freedom reigns,
⁠Whare heather blooms an' muircocks craw,
O! dig my grave, and hide my banes
⁠Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

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