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 land———our native vale———
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Tivotdale,
And Scotland’s mountains blue!
