The Goldfinch (1817)/The Braes of Balquhidder
The Braes of Balquhidder.
Let us go, lassie, goTo the braes of Balquhidder,Where the blae-berries grow'Mang the bonnie Highland heather;Where the deer and the roe,Lightly bounding together,Sport the lang summer dayOn the braes o' Balquhidder.
I will twine thee a bow'r,By the clear siller fountain,And I'll cover it o'erWi' the flow'rs o' the mountain;I'll range through the wilds,And the steep glens so dreary,And return wi' their spoilsTo the bow'r o' my dearie.
While the lads o' the southToil for bare war'ly treasure,To the lads o' the northEv'ry day brings its pleasure;Tho' simple are the joysThe brave Highlander possesses,Yet he feels no annoys,For he fears no distresses.
When the rude wintry win'Idly raves round his dwelling,And the roar of the linn,On the night-breeze is swelling,Then so merrily he'll sing,As the storm rattles o'er him,To the dear sheeling ring,Wi' the light-lilting jorum.
Now the summer is in prime,Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming,And the wild mountain thymeA' the moorlands perfuming;To our dear native scenesLet us journey together,Where glad innocence reigns,'Mang the braes o' Balquhidder.