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I'm back among the broomy braes,
Where byk't the foggy bee,
In clusters frae the tree.
How clear the stream gushed free the rock!
How red the berries hung! How happily from twig to twig,
The Watty-Wag-tail sprung!
How joyfully the lintie sang,
Upon the hazel tree! And I as happy a' the day,
As ony bird could be.
O, ever blessed be the bards!
Who bring such visions hither; Without such blessed visitants,
My weary heart would wither.
THE OLD EMIGRANT'S SONG TO HIS WIFE.
Near fifty years have fled awa',
And fleetly they did flee,
And cam awa wi' me.
O then ye were a strappin' quean,
The pride o' Locher glen,
Nae staff ye needit then.
And proud was I my dawtie dear,
That day ye were my bride,
Nor ony place beside.
Among the woods o' Canada,
We sought anither hame,
Your heart was aye the same.
And oft when battlin' wi* the heat,
Or weary winter's snow,
And med I cam awa.
O ye were ne'er the ane to fret,
But kept my heart aboon, Wi' smiles sweet as when first we met,
By Locher's roaring lin.
Your raven locks are changed to snow,
Your tottering step within the hi
And changed am I, my dawtie dear,
And we maun soon be parted here,
Yet we hae little cause to greet,
If parting here is but to meet,
WE LIVE IN A RICKETY HOUSE.
We live in a rickety house,
In a dirty dismal street, Where the naked hide from day,
And thieves and drunkards meet.
And pious folks with their tracts,
They point to our shirtless backs,
And they quote us texts to prove,
And they feed us with the fact,
It will be long ere the poor,
While it's raiment food and fire,