A few days in the Wilds O Wannys

Wild Hills O' Wannys By James Armstrong

MY heart's in the west, on yon wild mossy fells,
Amang muircocks an' plovers an' red heatherbells;
Where the lambs lie in clusters on yon bonnie brae,
On the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.
There's Aid Crag an' Luma, an' Hepple Heugh, too,
Hartside and Darna, I've oft been on you,
Otter-caps, Hareshaw, an' Peaden sae hie,
And the wild hills o' Wannys for ever for me.
There the muircock he becks in his wild mossy hame,
O'er the tops o' the heather ye ken his red kame;
The plover is lilting on yon mossy flowes,
The black-cock is crooing on Fernyrigg knowes.
The cranberries creep where they scarce can be seen,
The blaeberries peep frae the heather between,
An'the sweet-scented wild thyme on yon bonnie brae,
On the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.

O Wannys, wild Wannys! thou rears thy proud head,
And boldly thou stands 'tween the Wansbeck and Reed,
Thou rears thy proud crest o'er hill, dale, and knowe,
Where of yore Rob o' Risingame bent his strong bow.
The dark ravens bield on thy grey cliffs sae hie,
The fox rears her young anes, auld Wannys, in thee;
The wild flashing falcon he darts on his prey,
On the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.

O Wannys, wild Wannys! the scene it is grand,
On, a clear summer's morn on thy summit to stand,
The hills o' the Carter and Cheviot to view,
An' listen the lapwing an' lonely curlew.
The shepherd he climbs thee his fair flocks to see,
An' to woo that fair mountain nymph-sweet Liberty;
On the braes by the burnie the lambs loup and play,
Round the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.

Round the wild hills o' Wannys 'twas glorious to tread,
When we went otter-hunting to the Tyne or the Reed,
When Rockwood an' Ringwood an' Bugle's clear cry,
An' Ranger was warning the otter to die.
Then we track't the sly fox to his den in the snow,
An' howkt him or trap't him for a grand tally-ho,
And wak'd the wild echoes by Sweethope and Rae,
Round the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.

Round the wild hills o' Wannys in the morn's early gleam,
O 'twas grand to gan fishing away by the Leam;
Wi' the flee o' the woodcock, the green drake, or teal,
Wi' gould spreckl't trouts we filled monie a fine creel.
There's the Reed an' the Wansbeck, where the dews sweetly fa',
The Lyles Bum and Reasey we oft fisht them a',
Aye, there's monie a burnie and sweet heather brae,
Round the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away.

Here's to the hills o' the brave and the free,
And the red waving heather sae bonnie to see;
An' the bright gushing streams wimplin' doun to the dell,
By wild thyme an' gowan an' sweet heather bell;
Here's to wild Wannys' ilk hill, dale, and stream,
Still, still I am there in my thoughts an' my dream;
Here's health, peace, an' plenty, for ever and aye,
Round the wild hills o' Wannys sae far, far away