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To the lads o’ the north
Ev’ry day brings its pleasure,
Tho' simple are the joys
The brave highlanders possesses.
Yet he feels no annoys,
For he fears no distresses.
Now the simmer 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.
THE THIRSTY LOVER.
DRINK to me only with thine.
And I’ll pledge thee with mine,
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
