 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
No. 7b - Ballad - Janet
| Janet: | My hame is where the heather blooms, Where heather blooms and scents the air; My hame is where my laddie dwells, And fain wad I be there; Nae laird is he, my bonny Hieland lad, Nor mickle gold or land has he, But he will love me weel, and he will love me true, And never love a lass but me. To the Hielands then I'll gang awa; Ay, wi' the ane I love the best of a'. My hame is where the heather blooms, Where heather blooms and scents the air; My hame is where my laddie dwells, and waits for me, Oh, fain wad I be there. |
| My hairt is where the throstle sings A lay that has no note of care, By Hieland braes and Hieland springs: Ah, wad that I were there! For where are skies sae fair and air sae sweet As in the hame that waits for me, Where my true love will hold me dear fore'er and aye? How blithe and happy will we be! To the Hielands then, my way I'll fare. All in life that's dear to me is there! My hame is where the heather blooms, Where heather blooms and scents the air; My hame is where my laddie dwells, and waits for me, Oh, fain wad I be there. |
 |
 |
 |
American Musical Theatre | Rob Roy
Page modified 18 February 2017