Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/The Braes o' Gleniffer
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For other versions of this work, see The Braes o' Gleniffer.
THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.
Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer,
The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw;
How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover
Amang tho broom bushes o' Stanely green shaw;
Tho wild flow'rs o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie,
Tho mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree;
But far to the camp they hae marched my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' Nature and me,
The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw;
How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover
Amang tho broom bushes o' Stanely green shaw;
Tho wild flow'rs o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie,
Tho mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree;
But far to the camp they hae marched my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' Nature and me,
Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery,
Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw
Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,
And naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie
They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,
And chirp out their plaints seeming wae for my Johnnie,
'Tis winter with them, and 'tis winter wi' me.
Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw
Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,
And naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie
They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,
And chirp out their plaints seeming wae for my Johnnie,
'Tis winter with them, and 'tis winter wi' me.
Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain,
And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae,
While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain
That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.
'Tis no its loud roar in the wintry wind swellin',
'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e,
For, O gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan,
The dark days o' winter were summer to me.
And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae,
While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain
That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.
'Tis no its loud roar in the wintry wind swellin',
'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e,
For, O gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan,
The dark days o' winter were summer to me.