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Read Raw Ltd
Promoting Creative Writing in Scotland
Robert Tannahill
The Braes o' Gleniffer
Air – Saw ye my wee thing.
Keen blaws the win' o'er the braes o' Gleniffer ,
The auld castle's turrets are covered wi' snaw;
How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover,
Amang the brume bushes by Stanley green shaw;
The wild flowers o' simmer were spread a' sae bonnie,
The Mavis sang sweet frae the green birkin tree;
But far to the camp they ha'e marched my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' nature and me.
Then ilk thing around us was blythsome and cheerie,
Then ilk thing aroun' us was bonnie and braw;
Now naething is heard but the win' whistlin' dreary;
And naething is seen by the wide spreadin' snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie;
They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,
And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie;
'Tis winter wi' them and 'tis winter wi' me.
Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain,
And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae,
While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain,
That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie an' me.
'Tis no' its loud roar, on the wint'ry win' swellin'
'Tis no' the cauld blast brings the tear I' my e'e,
For, oh, gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan,
The dark days o' winter were simmer tae me!
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