Steve: Initial page generated from a heritage centre donated cutting

2024-03-10T15:23:19Z

Initial page generated from a heritage centre donated cutting

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This is from a cutting found in the Heritage Centre donations to the collections - provenance and date unknown, author unmarked. (Ed: I cannot find this poem via a Google search)

Oh warble sweet songster on the high mountain crest 
That springs from the bent with the dew on thy brest 
As away on the wing then wilt merrily fly 
For thou loves the sweet rills of the hills far out by

The hark to the sound of the burn running near 
Where low in the vale it runs wimping and clear 
And away in the distance the shepherd I'll spy 
Close herding his flock on the hills far out by

Then pausing a moment and musing I'll stand 
To view from some peak our grand Borderland 
Where curlews and plovers to there fair mates reply 
As they brood in there nests on the hills far out by

I dream not of laurels in the valleys below 
Nor yet of the bluebells in the hedge rows aglow 
But give me the fells were the fleecy flocks lie 
In a snug little spot on the hills far out by

The rich I don't envy though happy and free 
But give me the fells with a collie with me 
Then the mosses and flowers we would gladly descry 
And take a fond lot at the hills far out by

Now after all's written and close put in line 
I'll hie my way back to Wark on the Tyne 
Where long may I wander the hills standing high 
And reviving my hopes o'er the hills far out by
[[Category:Songs and Poems]]

The Hills Far Out By - Revision history

Steve: Initial page generated from a heritage centre donated cutting