Excerpt from Songs From Border StreamsThen ho for the Tweed, Where the waters SO brown, Swirl down through the moors And past grim castles hoary Where the lark's song is free, And pale primroses crown Silent glen and lone lea, With rare gems from Spring's dow'ry.Let winter games rest - every sport has its spell, Take down from the rack favourite rod of wood mellow Strap up the Old creel that blithe stories could tell.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition.

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