The Book of Scottish Song/The Hills o' Gallowa'

The Hills o' Gallowa'.

[Thomas Cunningham.—Born 1776: died 1834.]

Amang the birks sae blythe an' gay,
I met my Julia hameward gaun;
The linties chauntit on the spray,
The lammies loupit on the lawn;
On ilka howm the sward was mawn,
The braes wi' gowans buskit bra',
An' gloamin's plaid o' gray was thrawn
Out owre the hills o' Gallowa'.

Wi' music wild the woodlands rang,
An' fragrance wing'd alang the lea,
As down we sat the flowers amang,
Upon the banks o' stately Dee.
My Julia's arms encircled me,
An' saftly slade the hours awa',
Till dawin coost a glimmerin' e'e
Upon the hills o' Gallowa'.

It isna owsen, sheep, and kye,
It isna gowd, it isna gear,
This lifted e'e wad ha'e, quoth I,
The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer.
But gi'e to me my Julia dear,
Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba',
An' O! sae blythe through life I'll steer,
Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

Whan gloamin' dauners up the hill,
An' our gudeman ca's hame the yowes,
Wi' her I'll trace the mossy rill
That owre the muir meand'ring rowes;
Or tint amang the scroggy knowes,
My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw,
An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes,
The hills an' dales o' Gallowa'.

An' whan auld Scotland's heathy hills,
Her rural nymphs an' jovial swains,
Her flow'ry wilds an' wimpling rills,
Awake nae mair my canty strains;
Whare friendship dwells an' freedom reigns,
Whare heather blooms an' muircocks craw,
O! dig my grave, and hide my banes
Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

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