Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/139

Rh No city fairer or more grand

Has ever sprung from human hand.

But I must add (the more's the pity)

That though in fair Dunedin's city

Scotland's taste is quite delightful,

The smaller Scottish towns are frightful.

When in other lands I roam

And sing 'There is no place like home,'

In this respect I must confess

That no place has its ugliness.

Here on my mother's granite breast

We settled down and took our rest.

On Saturday we ventured forth

To push our journey to the North.

Past Linlithgow first we sped,

Where the Palace rears its head,

Then on by Falkirk, till we pass

The famous valley and morass