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HILLS OF GALLOWA.
Amang the birks sae blithe and gay,
I met my Julia hameward gaun;
The linties chantit on the spray,
The lammies lowpit on the lawn;
On ilka swaird the hay was mawn,
The braes wi' gowans buskit braw;
And gloamin's plaid o' grey was thrawn
Cut o'er the hills of Gallowa.
Wi' music wild the woodlands rang,
And fragrance winged alang the lee,
When down we sat, the flowers amang,
Upon the banks of stately Dee.
My Julia's arms encircle me;
Then sweetly slade the hours awa,
Till dawnin' cost a glimmerin' ee,
Upon the hills o' Gallowa.
It is nae owsen, sheep and kye,
It is nae gow'd it is nae gear,
This lifted ee wad hae quoth I,
The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer;
