An’ oh! my heart is there!
The lark may sing his blithest,
The throstle fill the breeze,
But ilka strain is poured in vain—
Nae heart hae I for these.
For ower thae hills, thae bonny hills,
Thae blue, blue hills o’ Blair,
It’s there bides he wha’s a’ to me,
An’ oh! my heart is there!
G. K. M.