394. Song—Braw Lads o’ Gala Water
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RAW, 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 bonie 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.
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