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Robert Tannahill (Роберт Таннахилл) The Braes o’ Balquhither LET us go, lassie, go, To the braes o’ Balquhither, Where the blaeberries grow ’Mang the bonnie Highland heather; Where the deer and the roe, Lightly bounding together, Sport the lang summer day On the braes o’ Balquhither. I will twine thee a bower By the clear siller fountain, And I ’ll cover it o’er Wi’ the flowers of the mountain; I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae drearie, And return wi’ the spoils To the bower o’ my dearie. When the rude wintry win’ Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn On the night breeze is swelling, So merrily we ’ll sing, As the storm rattles o’er us, Till the dear shieling ring Wi’ the light lilting chorus. Now the summer ’s in prime Wi’ the flowers richly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme A’ the moorlands perfuming; To our dear native scenes Let us journey together, Where glad innocence reigns ’Mang the braes o’ Balquhither. Robert Tannahill's other poems:
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