Thomas Mounsey Cunningham (Томас Моунси Каннингем)

The Hills o’ Gallowa’

AMANG 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’ fragrance winged alang the lea,
As down we sat the flowers amang,
  Upon the banks o’ stately Dee.
My Julia’s arms encircled me,
  An’ saftly slade the hours awa’,
Till dawning coost a glimm’rin’ e’e
  Upon the hills o’ Gallowa’.

It isna owsen, sheep, an’ kye,
  It isna gowd, it isna gear,
This lifted e’e wad hae, quo’ I,
  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,
  Ah’ our gudeman ca’s hame the yowes,
Wi’ her I ’ll trace the mossy rill
  That through the muir meand’ring rows;
Or tint amang the scroggie knowes,
  My birken pipe I ’ll sweetly blaw,
An’ sing the streams, the straths, and howes,
  The hills an’ dales o’ Gallowa’.

An’ when auld Scotland’s heathy hills,
  Her rural nymphs an’ jovial swains,
Her flowery wilds an’ wimpling rills,
  Awake nae mair my canty strains;
Where friendship dwells an’ freedom reigns,
  Where heather blooms an’ muircocks craw,
O, dig my grave, and lay my banes
  Amang the hills o’ Gallowa’.

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