There's stately woods on mony a brae,
Where burns and birds in concert play;
The waukrife echo answers a',

Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.

The simmer shiel I'll build for thee
Alang the bonnie banks o' Dee,
Half circlin' roun' my father's ha',
Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.

When autumn waves her flowin' horn,
And fields o' gowden grain are shorn,
I'll busk thee fine, in pearlins braw,
To join the dance in Gallowa'.

At e'en, whan darkness shrouds the sight,
And lanely, langsome is the night,
Wi' tentie care my pipes I'll thraw,
Play "A' the way to Gallowa'."

Should fickle fortune on us frown,

Nae lack o' gear our love should drown;
Content should shield our haddin' sma',
Amang the braes o' Gallowa'.

Come while the blossom 's on the broom,
And heather-bells sae bonnie bloom;

Come let us be the happiest twa

On a' the braes o' Gallowa'!

William Nicholson.

Gareloch Head.

THE OLD SOLDIER OF THE GARELOCH HEAD.

I'VE wandered east and west,

And a soldier I ha'e been;

The scars upon my breast

Tell the wars that I have seen.
But now I'm old and worn,

And my locks are thinly spread,
And I'm come to die in peace
By the Gareloch Head.

When I was young and strong,
Oft a wandering I would go
By the rough shores of Loch Long,
Up to lone Glencroe.

But now I'm fain to rest,

And my resting-place I've made
On the green and gentle bosom
Of the Gareloch Head.

'T was here my Jeanie grew,
Like a lamb amid the flocks,

With her eyes of bonnie blue,
And her gowden locks.

And here we often met,

When with lightsome foot we sped
O'er the green and grassy knolls
At the Gareloch Head.

'T was here she pined and died, O, the salt tear in my ee Forbids my heart to hide

--

What Jeanie was to me! 'T was here my Jeanie died, And they scooped her lowly bed 'Neath the green and grassy turf At the Gareloch Head.

Like a leaf in leafy June
From the leafy forest torn,
She fell, and I'll fall soon,
Like a sheaf of yellow corn.
For I'm sere and weary now,

And I soon shall make my bed
With my Jeanie, 'neath the turf
At the Gareloch Head.

John Stuart Blackie.

0,

Gask.

THE AULD HOUSE.

THE auld house, the auld house!
What though the rooms were wee?

O, kind hearts were dwelling there,
And bairnies fu' o' glee!

The wild-rose and the jessamine

Still hang upon the wa';

How mony cherished memories
Do they, sweet flowers, reca'!

O, the auld laird, the auld laird!
Sae canty, kind, and crouse;
How mony did he welcome to

His ain wee dear auld house!
And the leddy too, sae genty,
There sheltered Scotland's heir,
And clipt a lock wi' her ain hand
Frae his lang yellow hair.

The mavis still doth sweetly sing,
The bluebells sweetly blaw,

The bonnie Earn 's clear winding still,
But the auld house is awa'.
The auld house, the auld house,
Deserted though ye be,

There ne'er can be a new house
Will seem sae fair to me.

Still flourishing the auld pear-tree
The bairnies liked to see,
And O, how often did they speir
When ripe they a' wad be!
The voices sweet, the wee bit feet
Aye rinnin' here and there,
The merry shout, -O, whiles we greet
To think we 'll hear nae mair.

For they are a' wide scattered now,
Some to the Indies gane,

And ane, alas! to her lang hame;
Not here we'll meet again.
The kirkyaird, the kirkyaird,
Wi' flowers o' every hue,
Sheltered by the holly's shade,
An' the dark sombre yew.

The setting sun, the setting sun,
How glorious it gaed down;
The cloudy splendor raised our hearts
To cloudless skies aboon!

The auld dial, the auld dial,

It tauld how time did pass;

The wintry winds ha'e dung it down, —
Now hid 'mang weeds and grass.

Carolina, Baroness Nairne.

Now

Glaizart.

THE BANKS O' GLAIZART.

flowery summer comes again,

And decks my native, bonnie plain, While feathered warblers swell the strain, Aroun' the banks o' Glaizart.

Our woody, wild, romantic glens,

Our flowery groves, and fairy dens,
Form heart-enlivening, charming scenes,
Aroun' the banks o' Glaizart.