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Poem by Eliza Cook
O, TELL me, did ye ever see Sweet Galla on a simmer night, When ilka star had oped its e’e, An’ tipped the broom wi’ saft, pale light? Ye ’d never gang toward the town, Ye wadna like the flauntie day, If ance ye saw the moon blink down Her bonnie beams on Galla Brae. A’ silent, save the whimplin tune, The win ’s asleep, nae leaflet stirs: O, gie me Galla ’neath the moon, Its siller birk, and gowden furze. There ’s monie anither leesome glen, But let ’em talk o’ whilk they may, O’ a’ the rigs an’ shaws I ken, There ’s nane sae fair as Galla Brae. I crept a wee thing ’mang its heath, A laughing laddie there I strayed; I roved beside its burnie’s tide In morning air an’ gloaming shade: Its gowans were the first I pu’d, An’ still my leal heart loves it sae, That when I dee, nae grave would be Sic hallowed earth as Galla Brae.
Poem Theme: Rivers
Eliza Cook's other poems:
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