| |
| ERE eild wi’ his blatters had warselled me down, | |
| Or reft me o’ life’s youthfu’ bloom, | |
| How aft ha’e I gane, wi’ a heart louping light, | |
| To the knowes yellow tappit wi’ broom! | |
| How aft ha’e I sat i’ the beild o’ the knowe, | 5 |
| While the laverock mounted sae hie, | |
| An’ the mavis sang sweet in the plantings around, | |
| On the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee. | |
| |
| But, ah! while we daff in the sunshine of youth, | |
| We see nae the blasts that destroy; | 10 |
| We count nae upon the fell waes that may come, | |
| An eithly o’ercloud a’ our joy. | |
| I saw nae the fause face that fortune can wear, | |
| Till forced from my country to flee; | |
| Wi’ a heart like to burst, while I sobbed, “Farewell | 15 |
| To the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee! | |
| |
| “Fareweel, ye dear haunts o’ the days o’ my youth, | |
| Ye woods and ye valleys sae fair; | |
| Ye ’ll bloom whan I wander abroad like a ghaist, | |
| Sair niddered wi’ sorrow an’ care. | 20 |
| Ye woods an’ ye valleys, I part wi’ a sigh, | |
| While the flood gushes down frae my e’e; | |
| For never again shall the tear wet my cheek, | |
| On the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee. | |
| |
| “O Time, could I tether your hours for a wee! | 25 |
| Na, na, for they flit like the wind!” | |
| Sae I took my departure, an’ sauntered awa’, | |
| Yet aften looked wistfu’ behind. | |
| O, sair is the heart of the mither to part | |
| Wi’ the baby that sits on her knee; | 30 |
| But sairer the pang when I took a last peep | |
| O’ the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee. | |
| |
| I heftit ’mang strangers years thretty-an’-twa, | |
| But naething could banish my care; | |
| An’ aften I sighed when I thought on the past, | 35 |
| Whare a’ was sae pleasant an’ fair. | |
| But now, wae ’s my heart! whan I ’m lyart an’ auld, | |
| An’ fu’ lint-white my haffet-locks flee, | |
| I ’m hamewards returned wi’ a remnant o’ life, | |
| To the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee. | 40 |
| |
| Poor body! bewildered, I scarcely do ken | |
| The haunts that were dear ance to me; | |
| I yirded a plant in the days o’ my youth, | |
| An’ the mavis now sings on the tree. | |
| But, haith! there ’s nae scenes I wad niffer wi’ thae; | 45 |
| For it fills my fond heart fu’ o’ glee, | |
| To think how at last my auld banes they will rest, | |
| Near the bonnie green braes o’ Drumlee. | |
| |
