| |
| LET us go, lassie, go, | |
| To the braes o’ Balquhither, | |
| Where the blaeberries grow | |
| ’Mang the bonnie Highland heather; | |
| Where the deer and the roe, | 5 |
| Lightly bounding together, | |
| Sport the lang summer day | |
| On the braes o’ Balquhither. | |
| |
| I will twine thee a bower | |
| By the clear siller fountain, | 10 |
| And I ’ll cover it o’er | |
| Wi’ the flowers of the mountain; | |
| I will range through the wilds, | |
| And the deep glens sae drearie, | |
| And return wi’ the spoils | 15 |
| To the bower o’ my dearie. | |
| |
| When the rude wintry win’ | |
| Idly raves round our dwelling, | |
| And the roar of the linn | |
| On the night breeze is swelling, | 20 |
| So merrily we ’ll sing, | |
| As the storm rattles o’er us, | |
| Till the dear shieling ring | |
| Wi’ the light lilting chorus. | |
| |
| Now the summer ’s in prime | 25 |
| Wi’ the flowers richly blooming, | |
| And the wild mountain thyme | |
| A’ the moorlands perfuming; | |
| To our dear native scenes | |
| Let us journey together, | 30 |
| Where glad innocence reigns | |
| ’Mang the braes o’ Balquhither. | |
| |
