Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/53

Rh But my loved song is then the broom

So fair on Cowdenknows;

For sure, so sweet, so soft a bloom,

Elsewhere there never grows.

There Colin tuned his oaten reed,

And won my yielding heart;

No shepherd e'er that dwelt on Tweed,

Could play with half such art.

He sung of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde,

The hills and dales all round,

Of Leader-haughs, and Leader-side,

Oh! how I bless'd the sound.

Yet more delightful is the broom

So fair on Cowdenknows;

For sure, so fresh, so bright a bloom,

Elsewhere there never grows.

Not Tiviot braes, so green and gay,

May with this broom compare;

Not Yarrow banks in flowery May,

Nor the bush aboon Traquair.

More pleasing far are Cowdenknows,

My peaceful happy home,

Where I was wont to milk my ewes,

At e'en amang the broom.

Ye powers that haunt the woods and plains

Where Tweed and Tiviot flows,

Convey me to the best of swains,

And my loved Cowdenknows.

[ by for Johnson's Museum. Burns says, "The tune of this song is in Neil Gow's first collection, and is there called Major Graham." See the following song.]

[ tune of "Low down in the Brume," or something very like it, is often given to the song above quoted, "A red, red Rose." The words of the present song are ascribed to, Esq. of Balnamoon, near Brechin. They can be traced as far back as to a collection published at Edinburgh in 1765, called "The Lark."]