BRAW LADS O' GALLA WATER
I
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.
II
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 bonie lad o' Galla Water.
III
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.
IV
It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, and pleasure:
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
O, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!
