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Let us go, lassie, go.

To the braes of Balquhither,

Where the blae-berries grow

'Mang the bonnie Highland heather

Where the deer and the roe,

Lightly bounding together,

Sport the lang simmer day.

On the braes o' Balquhither.

I will twine thee a bow'r,

By the clear silier fountaha,

And I'll cover it o'er

Wi' the flow'rs o' the mountain;

I will range through the wilds,

And the deep glens sae drearie,

And return wi' the spoils,

To the bow'r 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 is in prime,

Wi' the flowers richly blooming.

And the wild mountain thyme

A' the muirlands perfuming;