The Braes o' Balquhither

Let us go, lassie, go,To the braes o' BalquhitherWhere the blae-berries grow'Mang the bonnie Highland heather;Where the deer and the roe,Lightly bounding together,Sport the lang summer dayOn the braes o' Balquither.

I will twine thee a bower,By the clear siller fountain,And I'll cover it o'erWi' the flowers o' the mountain;I will range thro' the wilds,And the deep glens sae dreary,And return wi' their spoils,To the bow'r o' my deary.

When the rude wintry win'Idly raves round our dwelling,And the roar of the the linnOn the night breeze is swelling,So merrilly we'll sing,As the storm rattles o'er us,'Till the dear sheeling ringWi' the light lilting chorus.

Now the summer is in prime,Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming,And the wild mountain thymeA' the moorlands perfumingTo our dear native scenesLet us journey together,Where glad innocenco reigns,'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.