Ye bonnie haughs.
[William Motherwell.]
Ye bonnie haughs and heather braes,
Where I ha'e past youth's blythest days,
Ane idle dream o' bliss ye be,
That gars me sigh for my ain countrie.
O bauld we rade through Stirling toun,
Wi' pistol, sword, and musquetoon,
And banner braid display'd had we,
Like brave men halding companie.
We left our luves, we left our hames,
We left our bairns and winsome dames,
And we drew our swords right manfully
To back the king o' our ain countrie.
But Carlile yetts are wat wi' blude,
Micht matches richt, and dooms the gude;
And gentle blude o' ilk degree
Ha'e stain'd the hearths o' my ain countrie.
And dwyning in this fremit land,
Does feckless mak' baith heart and hand,
And gars thir tears drap frae my e'e,
That ne'er sail fa' in my ain countrie.
O Carron brig is auld and worn,
Where I and my forbears were born;
But bonnie is that brig to see
By ane flemit frae his ain countrie.
And gladly to the listening ear
Is borne the waters cruning clear,
Making a moan and melodie
That weds my heart to my ain countrie.
O gin I were a wee wee bird,
To light adown at Randiefuird,
And in Kirk-o'-Muir to close my e'e,
And fald my wings in my ain countrie!