The Book of Scottish Song/Amang the Heather

Amang the Heather.

[William Cross.—Here first printed.—Tune, "O'er the muir amang the heather."]

Amang the braes aboon Dunoon,
In vernal May's delightfu' weather,
I met at e'en a bonnie lass
Alane amang the blooming heather.

A hame-spun gown and westlin' plaid
Was dress enough, she had nae ither,
But blythe and comely was her lace,
And light her step amang the heather.

I spake her fair, and speert her name,
To tell me true she didna swither,
But modestly she hung her head,
And blush'd an red's the blooming heather.

A bonnie lass and free-han'd lad
Maun ha'e a crack when they forgather,
Sae down we sat beside a burn
That wimpled through the blooming heather.

We spake o' kirks, we spake o' fairs,
The sprouting corn, the bonnie weather;
O' every thing we talk'd but love,
Though love was a' our thoughts thegither.

Could I keep still my louping heart,
Or ae word right put to anither,
When for my ain I tried to claim
The bonnie lass amang the heather?

Ah no! though lang I ettled sair,
My tongue could never slip the tether,
But weel the lassie guess'd my mind
That night amang the blooming heather.

The balmy air, the glowing sky,
The thymey sod, the blooming heather,
And sic an angel by my side—
I trow 'twas heaven a' thegither!

The night grew late before we wist,
It took us hours to part wi' ither;
And now she's mine, the bonnie lass
That staw my heart amang the heather.

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