[Am]Braw, [G]braw [C]lads on [G]Yarrow braes,
Ye [C]won[G]der thro the [F]blooming heather,
But [G]Yarrow [C]braes
nor [Am]Ettrick shaws
Can [C]match [G]the lads o' [F]Galla Water.
[Am]Braw, [G]Braw [C]Lads
But there is ane, a secret ane,
Aboon them a' I loe him better;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The
bonie lad o' Galla Water.
Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
And tho' I had nae meikle tocher,
Yet, rich in kindest, truest love,
We'll
tent our flocks by Galla Water.
It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, and pleasure:
The bands and bliss
o' mutual love,
O, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!
