Come to the highlands the summer is nigh

Nature all smiles in the Glens of Argyll

The sweet scented primrose so fresh with the dew

There the white sorrel bows amid the violets so blue

The snows from the winter are swept from the ben

The cuckoo is callingher welcome again

Harken the lark as she spirals on high

With the chorus of gladness 0′ er the Glens of Argyll

The dwellers in cities are searching for gold

So tired and so faded and seeking repose

Here in the highlands real peace they will find

With rest and content in the Glens of Argyll

Far from their homeland so many have roamed

Seeking their fortunes on far foreign shores

But sadness and longings come oft to their mind

When their thought night in fancy to the Glens of Argyll

Let England sing praises of downs and of dales

And the Welsh sing their praises of green valley’s so fair

Whatever the events their poets inspire

Can never compare with the Glens of Argyll

Allan Livingston


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