The Book of Scottish Song/The Brakens wi' me

The Brakens wi' me.

[James Hogg.—Air, "Driving the Steer."]

I'll sing of yon glen o' red heather,
An' a dear thing that ca's it her hame,
Wha's a' made o' love life together,
Frae the tie o' the shoe to the kembe.
Love beckons in ev'ry sweet motion,
Commanding due homage to gi'e;
But the shrine of my dearest devotion
Is the bend o' her bonnie e'e bree.

I fleech'd and I prayd the dear lassie
To gang to the brakens wi' me,
But though neither lordly nor saucy,
Her answer was, "Laith will I be.
Ah! is it nae cruel to press me
To that which wad breed my heart wae,
An' try to entice a poor lassie
The gate she's o'er ready to gae.

"I neither ha'e father nor mither,
Good counsel or caution to gi'e,
And prudence has whisper'd me never
To gang to the brakens wi' thee.
I neither ha'e tocher nor mailings,
I ha'e but ae boast—I am free;
But a' wad be tint, without failing,
Amang the green brakens wi' thee."

"Dear lassie, how can ye upbraid me,
And by your ain love to beguile,
For ye are the richest young lady
That ever gaed o'er the kirk-stile?
Your smile that is blither than ony,
The bend o' your sunny e'e-bree,
And the love-blinks aneath it sae bonnie
Are five hunder thousand to me."

There's joy in the blythe blooming feature,
When love lurks in every young line;
There's joy in the beauties of nature,
There's joy in the dance and the wine;
But there's a delight will ne'er perish
'Mong pleasures so fleeting and vain,
And that is to love and to cherish
The fond little heart that's our ain.

---