Braw, brawlads on Yarrow-braes,
They rove amangthe blooming heather;
But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws
Can match the lads o’ Galla Water.
Butthere is ane, a secret ane,
Aboonthem a’I loe him better;
And I’ll be his, and he’ll be mine,
The bonielad o’ Galla Water.
Altho’ his daddie was nae laird,
And tho’ I haenaemeikletocher,
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,
We’ll tentour flocks byGalla Water.
It ne’er was wealth, it ne’er was wealth,
That coftcontentment, peace, orpleasure;
The bands and bliss o’mutual love,
O that’s the chiefest warld’s treasure.