Galla Water.
By Robert Burns
I. There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, That wander thro' 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 lo'e him better; And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, The bonnie 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, or pleasure; The bands and bliss o' mutual love, O that's the chiefest warld's treasure!
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