Classic Poem

Air — " The three Carls o' Buchanan. "

Let us go, lassie, go
To the braes o' Balquhither,
Where the blae-berries grow
'Mang bonnie Highland heather;
Where the deer and the rae,
Lightly bounding together,
Sport the lang summer day,
On the braes o' Balquhither.

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 will range through the wilds,
And the deep glens sae dreary,
And return wi' their spoils
To the bow'r o' my deary.

When the rude wintry win'
Idly raves round our dwelling,
And the roar of the linn
On the night breeze is swelling,
So merrily we'll sing
As the storm rattles o'er us,
'Till the dear sheeling ring
Wi' the light lilting chorus.

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' Balquhither.