The Braes of Balquither

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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!
Tho’ simple are the joys
the brave Highlander possesses,
Yet he feels no annoys,
for he fears no distresses:

When the rude wintry win’
idly raves round his dwelling,
And the roar of the linn
on the night-breeze is swelling,
Then so merrily he’ll sing,
as the storm rattles o’er him,
To the dear sheeling ring,
wi’ the light lilting jorum.

Now the summer is in prime,
wi’ the flow’rs richly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
a’ the moorlands perfuming;
To our dear native scenes
let us journey together,
Where glad innocence reigns,
‘mang the braes o’ Balquither.