Auld Brae Of A Bonny Loch

The beautiful countryside of Scotland.

A scraigh o'day glisters for a gliff,
Upon the dern gowans of the fields,
As the stime is seen brightenin' nigh,
The rows of bluebells in the wealds.

The canty glimmer in the rowans,
Bieldin' the yare wrought lowlands,
Where the sundry boughs bustlin',
Glint lown bluffs of lofty highlands.

The gleam grazes the brow of tors,
And the green of the grassy glades,
That awakens a winsome afterglow,
By the yald lin in the murky shades.

Therefore glistenin' ebbs of a sea,
And skeigh cloughs by a tait firth,
Whereupon dwell the narrow kyles,
Abreast crags of the trodden earth.

Ayont the sweer glacks that dree,
The glare unfolds upon fain glens,
Where the glow then balks comely,
Aboon the trees of the blashy fens.

Scotland the bauld land of Wallace,
Whence I gander with a hearty sigh,
And a leesome guise hovers thither,
As clouds swathe afresh and high.

A renchel with a tam o' shanter skirls,
A bagpipe bestowin' a skire wonder,
That is heard from the haur blawin',
Where the welkin is ne'er asunder.

A sprack gannet brings a smergh,
To the glarin' cairns 'lang a broch,
Garin' me to dreep and thus wade,
From the auld brae of a bonny loch.