The Humors Of The Glen Lyrics

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The humors of the glen

(robert burns)

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon

where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume

Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan

wi' th'burn stealing under the lang yellow broom:

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers

where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen;

For there lightly tripping amang the wild flowers

a listening the linnet oft wanders my jean.

Tho' rich is the breeze in their **** sunny vallies

and cauld caledonia's blast on the wave;

Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace

what are they ? the haunt o'the tyrant and slave.

The slave's spicy forests and gold-bubbling fountains

the brave caledonian views wi'disdain;

He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains

save love's willing fetters the chains o'his jean.

Tune:humors of the glen (496)

Filename[ humofgln

Play.exe humofgln

Arb

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