Glen of Glenfarg.
Streaming through thy mountains high,
Onward pressing, onward still,
Hardly seeing the blue sky.
And run into the stream below:
Never stop like idle clay,—
Hear the sheep, and cattle low.
Bear the rushing torrent still:
—Thou shalt never, never die,
—Submit unto the Almightyʼs will.
Rise and graze upon the hills;
Never be a heavy mass,
Like a stone thatʼs in the rills.
Rise, and play, and jump about;
Drink out of the running rills,
And always on the grass be out.
Placed so near the floury mills;
—Cottager, look on Charlesʼs Wain, 1
Right above the grassy hills.