Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner |
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I'VE SOUGHT IN LANDS AYONT THE SEA. |
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 | Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver |  |
I'VE SOUGHT IN LANDS AYONT THE SEA.
Written at Stocks, near Tring, 1841.
I've sought in lands ayont the sea
A hame—a couthie hame for thee,
An' honeysickle bursts around
The blithesome hame that I hae found;
Then dinna grudge your heather bell—
Oh, fretna for your flowerless fell—
Here dale an' down mair fair to see,
Than ought in our ain bleak countrie!
A hame—a couthie hame for thee,
An' honeysickle bursts around
The blithesome hame that I hae found;
Then dinna grudge your heather bell—
Oh, fretna for your flowerless fell—
Here dale an' down mair fair to see,
Than ought in our ain bleak countrie!
Come o'er the waters, dinna fear,
The lav'rock lilts as lo'esome here,
An' mony a sweet, around, above,
Shall welcome o'er my Jessie, love.
My hame wi' halesome gear is fu',
My heart wi' loweing love for you;
Oh, haste, my Jessie, come an' see
The hame—the heart that waits for thee:
The lav'rock lilts as lo'esome here,
An' mony a sweet, around, above,
Shall welcome o'er my Jessie, love.
My hame wi' halesome gear is fu',
My heart wi' loweing love for you;
Oh, haste, my Jessie, come an' see
The hame—the heart that waits for thee:
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But mind ye, lass, the fleetfu' hours,
They wait nae—spare nae fouk nor flowers,
An' sair are fouk and flowers to blame,
Wha wishfu', wastefu' wait for them.
Oh, bide nae lang in swither, then,
Since flowers an' fouk may wither, then;
But come, as lang's I hae to gie
A hame—a heart to welcome thee!
They wait nae—spare nae fouk nor flowers,
An' sair are fouk and flowers to blame,
Wha wishfu', wastefu' wait for them.
Oh, bide nae lang in swither, then,
Since flowers an' fouk may wither, then;
But come, as lang's I hae to gie
A hame—a heart to welcome thee!
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