Louden's bonny woods and braes/The Hills O' Gallowa

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THE HILLS O‘ GALLOWA.

Tune—The Lee Rig.

Amang the birks, sae blythe and gay,
I met my Julia hameward gaun:
The linties chantit on the spray,
The lammies leupit on the lawn;
On ilka swaird the hay was mawn;
The braes wi‘ gowans buskit braw;
And gloamin's plaid o’ grey was thrawn
Out o'er the hills o' Gallowa.

Wi‘ music wild the woodlands rang,
And fragrance wing’d alang the lee,
When down we sat, the flowers amang,
Upon the banks of stately Dee;
My Julia's arms encircled me;
Then sweetly slade the hours awa,
Till dawning coost a glimmerin' ee
Upon the hills o' Gallowa.

It is na owsen, sheep, and kye,
It is na gowd, it is na gear,
This lifted ee wad hae quo' I,
The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer;
But gi to me my Julia dear,
Ye Powers wha row this yirthen ba',

And O sae blythe through life I'll steer
Amang the hills o’ Gallowa.

When gleamin daunders up the hill.
And our gudeman ca's hame the cows,
Wi’ her I‘ll trace the mossy rill
That through the rushes dimpled rows;
Or tint amang the scraggy knowes,
My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw,
And sing the streams, the straths, and howes,
The hills and dales o‘ Gallowa.

And when auld Scotland's heathy hills
Her rural nymphs and jovial swains,
Her flow’ry wilds and wimplin rills,
Awake nae mair my cantie strains;
Where friendship dwells and freedom reigns,
Where heather blooms and moor-cocks craw,
O dig my grave, and lay my banes
Amang the hills o’ Gallowa.