Young Donald o' Dundee (1804-1819)/Song 4

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see The Land of the Leal.

The Land o' the Leal.

I’m wearing awa, Jean,
Like snaw when it’s thaw, Jean;
I’m wearing awa
To the land o’ the leal.
There’s nae sorrow there, Jean,
There’s nae cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is ay fair,
In the land o’ the leal.

Ye were ay leal an’ true, Jean,
Your task’s ended now, Jean,
And I’ll welcome you
To the land o’ the leal.
Our bonny bairn’s there, Jean;
She was baith guid an’ fair, Jean,
And we grudg’d her right sair
To the land o’ the leal.

Then dry that tearfu’ ee, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me
To the land o’ the leal.
Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
This warld’s care is vain, Jean,
We’ll meet and ay be fain
In the land o’ the leal.