When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
"Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
When the kye comes hame.
"Tis not beneath the coronet,
Nor canopy of state,
'Tis not on couch of velvet,
Nor arbour of the great,-
'Tis beneath the spreading birk,
In the glen without the name,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
There the blackbird bigs his nest,
For the mate he lo'es to see,
And on the topmost bough,
O, a happy bird is he!
Then he pours his melting ditty,
And love is a' the theme,
And he'll woo his bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
When the blewart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonnie lucken gowan
Has fauldit up her ee,
Then the lavrock frae the blue lift,
Draps down an' thinks nae shame
To woo his bonnie lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
See yonder pawky shepherd
That lingers on the hill-
His yowes are in the fauld,
And his lambs are lying still;
Yet he downa gang to bed,
For his heart is in a flame
To meet his bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
When the little wee bit heart
Rises high in the breast,
And the little wee bit starn
Rises red in the east,
O there's a joy sae dear,
That the heart can hardly frame
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
Then since all Nature joins
In this love without alloy,
O, wha wad prove a traitor
To Nature's dearest joy?
Or wha wad choose a crown,
Wi' its perils and its fame,
And miss his bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
When the kye comes hame.
[This is Mr. Hogg's 'favourite pastoral for singing."]
The minstrel Boy to the glen is gone,
In its deepest dells you'll find him,
Where echoes sing to his music's tone,
And fairies listen behind him.
He sings of nature all in her prime,
Of sweets that around him hover,
Of mountain heath and moorland thyme,
And trifles that tell the lover.
How wildly sweet is the minstrel's lay,
Through cliffs and wild woods ringing,
For, ah! there is love to beacon his way,
And hope in the songs he's singing!
The bard may indite, and the minstrel sing,
And maidens may chorus it rarely;
But unless there be love in the heart within,
The ditty will charm but sparely.
Bird of the wilderness,
Blythesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling place
O to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth,
Where, on thy dewy wing
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbows rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling place
O to abide in the desert with thee!
O what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
O what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There's no a heart in a' the glen
That disna dread the day.
O what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
Young Jock has taen the hill for't-
A waefu' wight is he;
Poor Harry's taen the bed for't,
An' laid him down to dee;
An' Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
And learnin fast to pray.
And, O, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
The young laird o' the Lang-Shaw
Has drunk her health in wine;
The priest has said-in confidence-
The lassie was divine-
And that is mair in maiden's praise
Than ony priest should say:
But, O, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
The wailing in our green glen
That day will quaver high,
"Twill draw the redbreast frae the wood,
The laverock from the sky;
The fairies frae their beds o' dew
Will rise an' join the lay:
An hey! what a day will be
When Maggy gangs away!
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