188 ©ranters. 
Cranberry.... Cure for the Heartache. 
Far away among the hills, 
Far from tower and town, 
Where wide moors and heaths lie spread, 
Desolate and brown. 
Where the grouse and plover live 
Far from gun and dog, 
A delicate and tiny flower 
Decks swamp and watery bog. 
The Cranberry blossom dwelleth there 
Amid the mountains cold, 
Seeming like a fairy gift 
Left on the dreary wold. 
Oh ! and ’tis very beautiful, 
The flowers are pink and white, 
And the small oval polished leaves 
Are evergreen and bright. 
’Tis such a wee, fair, dainty thing, 
You’d think a greenhouse warm 
Would be its proper dwelling-place, 
Kept close from wind and storm. 
But on the moors it dwelleth free, 
Like a fearless mountain child; 
