Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, They rove amang the blooming heather; But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws Can match the lads o' Galla Water. But there is ane, a secret ane, Aboon them a' I loe him better; And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, The bonnie lad o' Galla Water. Altho' his daddie was nae laird, And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher, Yet rich in kindest, truest love, We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water. It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth, That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure; The bands and bliss o' mutual love, O that's the chiefest warld's treasure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT by ROBERT BURNS LAMENT FOR FLODDEN [FIELD] by JEAN ELLIOT (1727-1805) LINES TO A MOVEMENT IN MOZART'S E-FLAT SYMPHONY by THOMAS HARDY FESTOONS OF FISHES by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG THE WATCH OF A SWAN by SARAH MORGAN BRYAN PIATT AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY LOVE by EDMUND SPENSER IMPROMPTU LINES ON JULY FOURTH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |