Th L O B h（1 / 1）

the ss o&039; ballochyle

tune—“ettrick banks”

&039;as even—the dewy fields were green,

on every bde the pearls hang;

the zephyr wanton&039;d round the bean,

and bore its fragrant sweets ang:

ev&039;ry glen the avis sang,

all nature list&039;ng see&039;d the while,

except where greenwood echoes rang,

aang the braes o&039; ballochyle

with careless step i onward stray&039;d,

y heart rejoic&039;d nature&039;s joy,

when, g a lonely gde,

a aiden fair i chanc&039;d to spy:

her look was like the orng&039;s eye,

her air like nature&039;s vernal sile:

perfection whisper&039;d, passg by,

“behold the ss o&039; ballochyle!”

fair is the orn flowery ay,

and sweet is night autun ild;

when rovg thro&039; the garden gay,

or wand&039;rg the lonely wild:

but woan, nature&039;s darlg child!

there all her chars she does pile;

even there her other works are foil&039;d

by the bonie ss o&039; ballochyle

o, had she been a untry aid,

and i the happy untry swa,

tho&039; shelter&039;d the lowest shed

that ever rose on stnd&039;s p!

thro&039; weary ter&039;s d and ra,

with joy, with rapture, i would toil;

and nightly to y bo stra

the bonie ss o&039; ballochyle

then pride ight clib the slipp&039;ry steep,

where fra and honours lofty she;

and thirst of gold ight tept the deep,

or downward seek the dian e:

give the t below the pe,

to tend the flocks or till the il;

and ev&039;ry day have joys dive

with the bonie ss o&039; ballochyle