THE HEATHEH B3LL. 



The mountain bee sucks life frae thee, 



Around the lonesome dells ; 

 The western breezes sweetly sigh, 



An' kiss thy bonnie bells ; 

 The lavrock sings a song* o' love, 



High, high o'er stream an' stell ; 

 The braes a' sound wi' joy around 



My bonnie heather bell. 



In ither lands I've wander VI far, 



Ayont the Atlantic tide, 

 An' seen bright flowers o' gaudy hue, 



By the dark Beaver's side ; 

 In trackless woods an' prairies wide, 



Far frae my native dell, 

 It made me wae I couldna see 



My bonnie heather bell. 



The lavrock's song it w t ,sna there, 



Nor robin's, on the chorn ; 

 Nae muircock's beck nor blackcock's croo, 



Or sound of mountain horn. 

 An' ! my fancy saw thee still, 



Fair flower, on mossy fell ; 

 Light is my heart, nae mair we'll part, 



My bonnie heather bell ! 



