My Heather Hills.

O, gladsome is the sea wi' its heaving tide,
And bonnie are the plains in their summer pride;
But the sea wi' its tide, and the plains wi' their rills
Are nae half sae dear as my Heather Hills.
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 my 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 roam'd on their sunny braes,
And pouket the bloom and the sweet hare bells
Af the bonnie broomy knowes o' my Heather Hills.
I hae harried the nest o' the wild muircock
I hae clambered the steeps o' the raven's rock,
I hae courted my love in their rocky fells,
And won a sweet bride on my Heather Hills.
Chorus—Then Hurrah, &c.

I cling to their braes like the bud to the thorn
For 'mang their heather knowlets sae free was I born
And the hame o' my youth is my loved hame still,
'Neath the kindly shade o' a Heather Hill.
And when nature fails, row'd 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—Then Hurrah, &c.