SONGS OF THE HEATHER. 



I can heedless look on the siller sea, 

 I may tentless muse on the flow'ry lea, 

 But my heart wi' a nameless rapture thrills 

 When I gaze on the cliffs o' my heather hills. 

 Chorus. 



Then hurrah, hurrah, for the heather hills, 



Where the bonnie thistle waves to the sweet blue bells, 



And the wild mountain floods heave their crests to the 



clouds, 

 Syne foam down the steeps o' my heather hills. 



O ! aft in my roving youthfu' days, 

 I've nestled and row'd on their sunny braes ; 

 And pouket the bloom and the sweet hare bells 

 Aff the bonnie broomy knowes o' my heather hills. 

 I ha'e herried the nest o' the wild muircock, 

 I ha'e clamber'd the steeps o' the raven's rock; 

 I ha'e courted my love in their rocky fells. 

 And won a sweet bride on my heather hills. 

 Chorus. 



I cling to their braes like the bud to the thorn, 

 For many their heather knowlets sae free, was I born ; 

 And the hame o' my youth is my lov'd hame still, 

 'Neath the kindly shade o' a heather hill. 

 And when nature fails, rowM in my plaid, 

 I'll lay me down on a heather bed ; 

 And leesome I'll wait till kind Heaven wills 

 To waft me awa' frae my heather hills. 

 Chorus. 



John Ballantinc. 



237 



