[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,
bonie lad o' Galla Water.
Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
And tho' I had nae meikle tocher,
Yet, rich in kindest, truest love,
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!