3
But gie to me my Julia dear,
Ye pow'rs wha rule this earthen ba',
And O sae blythe thro' life I'll steer,
Amang the hills o' Gallowa.
When gloamin' daunders up the hill,
And our gudeman ca's hame the cows;
Wi' fier I'll trace the mossy rill,
That thro' the rashes dimpled rows;
Or tint amang the screggy knowes,
My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw,
And sing the stream, the straths, the hawes,
The hills and dales o' Gallowa.
And when auld Scotland's heathy hills,
Her rural nymphs and jovial swains,
Her flowery wilds and wimpling rills,
Awake nae mair my cantie streams;
Where friendship dwells and freedom reigns,
Where heather blooms and moor-cocks craw,
O dig my grave, and lay my banes,
Amang the hills o' Gallowa.
LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
Last May a braw wooer came down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love did he deave me;
