SCOTLAND. Gala Water. GALA WATER. HERE's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, THERE That wander through the blooming heather; But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws But there is ane, a secret ane, Aboon them a' I lo'e him better; Although his daddie was nae laird, We'll tent our flocks by Gala Water. It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth, O that's the chiefest warld's treasure! Robert Burns. 0, GALLA BRAE. TELL me, did ye ever see Sweet Galla on a simmer night, When ilka star had oped its e'e, An' tipped the broom wi' saft, pale light? Ye'd never gang toward the town, Ye wadna like the flauntie day, A' silent, save the whimplin tune, Its siller birk, and gowden furze. There's nane sae fair as Galla Brae. I crept a wee thing 'mang its heath, In morning air an' gloaming shade: An' still my leal heart loves it sae, That when I dee, nae grave would be Sic hallowed earth as Galla Brae. Eliza Cook. A Galloway. THE HILLS O' GALLOWA'. MANG the birks sae blythe an' gay, I met my Julia hameward gaun; The linties chantit on the spray, The lammies loupit on the lawn : On ilka swaird the hay was mawn, The braes wi' gowans buskit bra', An' evening's plaid o' gray was thrawn Out ower the hills o' Gallowa'. Wi' music wild the woodlands rang, An' saftly slade the hours awa', It isna owsen, sheep, an' kye, The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer; But gi'e to me my Julia dear, Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba', An' O, sae blythe through life I'll steer, Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. When gloamin' daunders up the hill, That through the muir meand'ring rows; My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw, An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes, An' when auld Scotland's heathy hills, Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. Thomas Mounsey Cunningham. THE BRAES OF GALLOWAY. LASSIE, wilt thou gang wi' me, And leave thy frien's i' th' south countrie, — Thy former frien's and sweethearts a', And gang wi' me to Gallowa'? O Gallowa' braes, they wave wi' broom, |