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 When down we sat, the flowers amang,

Upon the banks of stately Dee.

My Julia's arms encircled me;

Then sweetly slade the hours awa,

Till dawnin' cost a glimmerin' ee,

Upon the hills o' Gallowa.

It is nae owsen, sheep and kye,

It is nae gowd it is nae gear,

This lifted ee wad hae quoth I,

The warld's drumlie gloom to chear;

But gie to me my Julia dear,

Ye pow'rs wha rule this earthen ba

And O sae blythe thro' life I'll steer,

Amang the hills o' Gallowa.

When gloamin' daunders up the hill,

And our gudeman ca's hame the cows;

Wi' her I'll trace the mossy rill,

That thro' the rashes dimpled rows;

Or tint amang the scroggy knowes,

My birken pipe I'll sweetly blaw.

And sing the streams, the straths, the howes,

The hills and dales o’ Gallowa.

And when auld Scotland's heathy hills,

Her rural nymphs and jovial swains,

Her flowery wilds and wimpling rills,

Awake nae mair my cantie streams;