Through rocks and sands to distant lands The sailor wanders wide, In hopes to shield his crazy eild By couthy fireside. The couthy fireside, my friends, The couthy fireside ; Heaven send the lyart pow o' age A couthy fireside. 'Tis Heaven that nerves the soldier's arm The battle's heat to bide; He boldly dares the fiercest foe To shield his fireside. His ain fireside, my friends, His country's fireside; Would ye but warm a coward's heart, Insult his fireside. Gi'e luxury her painted domes, But be my lot a snug warm cot And canty fireside. A canty fireside, my friends, Be aye my lot a snug warm cot When bairnies brattlin round our knees What joy heaves up a parent's heart To see his fireside! To see his fireside, my friends, His ain fireside; May Heaven protect the rising sprouts Misfortune dour, wi' cauldrife stour, A neighbour may betide; "Twill edge a bit and lit him sit Just next the fireside. Our ain fireside, my friends, Our ain fireside; May ne'er a cauld nor hungry heart And, oh, may He whose powerful arm Wi' health and wealth and length o' days Our ain firesides, my friends, Our ain firesides; It is sae sweetly scented, It seems a maiden's breath; The heart is dowie can be cauld Step lightly o'er, gang saftly by, Ilk lad may kiss his bonnie lass THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH. ROBERT NICOLL. THE bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen, In yon lane glen ; My head is white and auld, An' my bluid is thin an' cauld; But I lo'e the bonnie rowan bush My Jeanie first I met In yon lane glen, When the grass wi' dew was wet The moon was shinin' sweet, An' our hearts wi' love did beat, Oh, she promised to be mine Her heart she did resign Did o'er us pass away Beside the bonnie rowan bush Sax bonnie bairns had we In yon lane glen, Lads an' lasses young an' spree An' a blither family Than ours there cou'dna be, Beside the bonnie rowan bush Now my auld wife's gane awa' An' though simmer sweet doth fa' In yon lane glen, To me its beauty's gane, For, alake, I sit alane Beside the bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen! Air-"The Highland or 42nd regiment's march," composed by GENERAL REID. IN the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome, |