Page:Betsey Baker (1).pdf/8

 8 Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,

And streams renown’d in song

Farewell, ye braes and blossom’d meads,

Our hearts have lov'd so long.

Farewell, the blythesome broomy knowes,

Where thyme and harebells grow

Farewell, the hoary, haunted, howes,

O’er hung with birk and sloe.

The mossy cave and mouldering tower

That skirt our native dell

The martyr’s grave, and lover’s bower

We bid a sad farewell!

Home of our love! our fathers’ home!

Land of the brave and free!

The sail is flapping on the foam

That bears us far from thee!

We seek a wild and distant shore,

Beyond the western main

We leave thee to return no more,

Nor view thy cliffs again!

Our native landour native vale

A long and last adieu!

Farewell to bonny Tivotdale,

And Scotland’s mountains blue!