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...TO MY NINETH DECADE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR FIRMILIAN; A TRAGEDY by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SOLUTION OF THE CHARADE IN THE MUSEUM FOR OCTOBER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ON THE DEATH OF HER BODY by JAMES KEIR BAXTER THE PUPPETS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE SWALLOW by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON LITTLE SISTER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'BUT THAT NE'ER TROUBLES ME, BOYS' by PATRICK CAREY |