See the boughs are rich in blossom, Through each sunlit, silent grove; Cast all sorrow from thy bosom-- Freedom is the soul of love! Let us o'er the valleys wander, Nor a frown within us dwell, And in joy see Nature's grandeur-- Bid the city, love! farewell.
Morning's sun shall then invite us By the ever sparkling streams; Evening's fall again delight us With its crimson-coloured beams. Flowers of summer sweetly springing, Deck the dewy lap of earth; Birds of love are loudly singing, In their gay and jocund mirth.
Home of my fathers, though far from thy grandeur, In joy or in sorrow, my heart turns to thee; In visions of night o'er thy loved scenes I wander, And dwell with those friends that are dearest to me! I see thy blue hills, where the thunders are leaping, Where springs the loud cascade to caverns below; The clouds round their summits their dark watch are keeping, Thy ravines are streak'd with the purest of snow. Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!
Warm are thy hearts, though thy breezes be chilly; Rosy thy maidens, and artless and gay! Cradled on high lie thy lakes pure and stilly, Surrounded by mountains gigantic and gray! Thy stern thistle still shoots aloft in its glory, And sheds its bright dew tears o'er old heroes' graves, Thy rudely rear'd cairns echo many a story, Of those who fell bravely, who scorn'd to be slaves! Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!
Land of the pibroch, the plaid, and the heather, The lake and the mountain, the streamlet and glen, The green thoughts of youth do not easily wither, But dwell on thy charms, and thy bravest of men! Both genius and love have in raptures hung o'er thee, And wafted thy name in sweet sounds o'er the sea-- Till nations afar have bent low to adore thee, Home of my fathers! my heart turns to thee! Home of my fathers, in joy or in sorrow-- Home of my fathers, my heart turns to thee!
What ails my heart--what dims my e'e? What maks you seem sae wae, Jamie? Ye werena aye sae cauld to me; Ye ance were blythe and gay, Jamie. I 'm wae to see you, like a flower Kill'd by the winter's snaw, Jamie, Droop farer down frae hour to hour, An' waste sae fast awa, Jamie.