Amang the Heather

Amang the braes aboon Dunoon,

In vernal May's delightfu' weather,

I met at e'en a bonnie lass

Alane amang the blooming heather.

A hame-spun gown and westlin' plaid

Was dress enough, she had nae ither,

But blythe and comely was her lace,

And light her step amang the heather.

I spake her fair, and speert her name,

To tell me true she didna swither,

But modestly she hung her head,

And blush'd an red's the blooming heather.

A bonnie lass and free-han'd lad

Maun ha'e a crack when they forgather,

Sae down we sat beside a burn

That wimpled through the blooming heather.

We spake o' kirks, we spake o' fairs,

The sprouting corn, the bonnie weather;

O' every thing we talk'd but love,

Though love was a' our thoughts thegither.

Could I keep still my louping heart,

Or ae word right put to anither,

When for my ain I tried to claim

The bonnie lass amang the heather?

Ah no! though lang I ettled sair,

My tongue could never slip the tether,

But weel the lassie guess'd my mind

That night amang the blooming heather.

The balmy air, the glowing sky,

The thymey sod, the blooming heather,

And sic an angel by my side—

I trow 'twas heaven a' thegither!

The night grew late before we wist,

It took us hours to part wi' ither;

And now she's mine, the bonnie lass

That staw my heart amang the heather.