# Blaeberries/Blaeberries

Date is estimated.
The Blaeberries,
WILL you go to the Highlands, my jewel with me Will you go to the Highlands the flocks for to ſee It is health to my jewel to breath the ſweet air, And to pull the blaeberries in the foreſt ſo fair To the Highlands my jewel I'll not go with thee, For the road it is long and the hills they are high, I love theſe low vallies and ſweet corn fields, More than all the blaeberries your wild mountains yield. Our hills they are bonny when the heather's in bloom, It would cheer a fine fancy in the month of June, To pull the blaeberries and carry them home, And ſet them on your table when December does come, Out ſpake her father the ſaucy auld man, You might have choſen a mistress among your own clan Its but poor entertainment to our lowland dames, To promiſe them berries and blue heather blooms, Kilt up your green plaidie and walk over yon hill, For the ſight of your highland face does me much ill, For I'll wed my daughter, and ſpare pennies too, To whom my heart pleaſes, and what's that to you? My plaidie is broad, it has colours anew, Guedman for your kindneſs, I'll leave it with you; I have got a warm cordial, keep a cold from me, The blythe blinks of love from your daughter's eye. My flocks are but thin and my lodging but bare, And you that has meikle the mair you can spare, Some of your ſpare pennies with us yo will ſhare, And you winna ſend your laſſie out o'er the hills bare. ​He went to his daughter and gave her advice, Said if you go with him I'm ſure your not wiſe,
He's a rude Highland fellow as poor as a crow,
He's the clan of the Catharine for ought that I know. But if you go with him, I'm ſure you'll gang bare, You ſhall have nothing that father or mother can ſpare Of all I poſſeſs I'll deprive you for ay. If over the hills you do go away. Its keep what you're not willing to give, For I fain would go with him as ſure as I live: What ſignifies gold or treaſure to me, When the highland hills is between my love and me, Now ſhe has gone with him in ſpite of them a', Away to a place that her eyes never ſaw, He had no ſteed for to carry her on, But ſtill he ſaid laſſie think not the road long In a warm ſummer's evening they came to a glen, Being weary with travel the laſſie ſat down; Get up my brave laſſie and let us ſtep on, For the ſun will get round before we get home. My feet are all torn, my ſhoes are all rent, I'm wearied with travel, and juſt like to faint. Were it not for the ſake of your kind company, I would lie in this deſart until that I die. The day is far ſpent, and night coming on: And ſtep ye aſide to yon bonny mill town,
And there you aſk lodgings for you and for me,
For glad would I be in barn to be. The place it is bonny and pleaſant indeed,
But the people's hard hearted to thoſe that's in need,
Perhaps they'll not grant us barn or byre: But I ſhall go aſk, as it is your deſire. ​The laſſie went foremoſt ſure I was to blame, To aſk for a lodging, myſelf I thought ſhame, The laſſie replied, with tears not a few. It is ill ale, ſhe ſaid, that is ſour when it's new. In a ſhort time thereafter they came to a grove, Where his flocks they were feeding in numberleſs droves Allan ſtood muſing his flocks for to ſee; Step on ſays the lady, that's no pleaſure to me. A beautiful laddie with green tartan treus. And twa bonny laſſes were bughting in ewes; They ſaid, Honour'd Maſter, are you come again? For long have we look'd for your coming hame. Bught in your ewes laſſe and go your way home, I've brought a ſwan from the north, I have her to tame Her feathers are fallen, and where can ſhe fly? The beſt bed in all my houſe there ſhe ſhall lye, The lady's lent was fallen and could'na well riſe, Till many a lad and laſs came in with a fraiſe, To welcome the lady, to welcome her home; Such a bed in the highlands ſhe never thought on. The laddies did whiſtle, and the lasses did ſing, They made her a ſupper that might have ſerv'd a queen, With ale and good whiſky they drank her health round, And they made to the laſſie a braw bed of down. Early next morning he led her up high, And bid her look round her as far as ſhe could ſpy, Theſe lands and poſſeſſions are my debts for to pay, And you cannot walk round them in a long ſummer's day.
O Allan! O Allan! I'm indebted to thee,
It is a debt, dear Allan, I never can pey. O Allan, O Allan, how came you for me? Sure I am not worthy your bride tor to be. How call you me Allan, when Sandy's my name, Why call you me Allan, ſure you are to blame ​For don't you remember when at ſchool with thee, I was hated by all the reſt, yet loved by thee, How oft have I fed on your bread and your cheeſe, Likewiſe when you had but a handful of peaſe, Your cruel hearted father would houcn me at his dogs, They tore my bare heels, wad rave all my rags. In this my dear Sandy, whom I lov'd ſo dear, I have not heard of you this many lost year, When all the reſt went to bed ſleep was far frae me, For thinking what was become of thee. My parents were born long before me Perhaps by this time they are drown'd in the ſea Thoſe lands and poſſeſſions they gave them to me, And now, my dear jewel you ſhall ſhare them with me. In love we began, and in love we will end, With joy and great mirth our days we will ſpend, And a voyage to our father once more we will go, To relieve to the old farmer of his trouble and woe. With men and maid ſervants to wait them upon, And away to her father in a chaiſe they are gone; The laddie went foremoſt the brave highland lown, Till he cam to the road that leads to the town, When he came to the gate he gave a loud roar, Come down gentle farmer Citharine's at your door. He lookt out at the window and ſaw his daughter's face With his hat in his hand he made a great fraiſe. Keep on your hat farmer and don't let it fa' For it ſets not a peacock to bow to the crow. It's hold your tongue Sandy and do not taunt me, For my daughter's not worthy your bride for to be, Now he held the bridle reins till be vame down, And then he convey'd them to a fine room; With the fineſt of ſpeeches thhy drank a fine toſs, And the father and ſon drank out of one glaſs,
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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