For it's home, dearie, home-it's home I want to be. Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea. They're all growing green in the old countree. The Inglenook Love Will Find Out the Way Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey, Over rocks that are steepest, Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie, For receipt of a fly; Where the midge dares not venture If Love come, he will enter And will find out the way. OLD ENGLISH, The Inglenook The Sailor's Wife And are ye sure the news is true? Is this a time to think o' wark? Ye jades, lay by your wheel; Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay, For there's nae luck about the house, There's little pleasure in the house And gie to me my bigonet, My bishop's satin gown; For I maun tell the baillie's wife Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, Gie little Kate her button gown And Jock his Sunday coat; And mak their shoon as black as slaes, It's a' to please my ain gudeman, There's twa fat hens upo' the coop Been fed this month and mair; Mak haste and thraw their necks about, And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, If Colin's weel, and weel content, I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, The Inglenook For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a'; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa. WILLIAM J. MICKLE. Evening at the Farm Over the hill the farm-boy goes. His shadow lengthens along the land, A giant staff in a giant hand; In the poplar-tree, above the spring, The katydid begins to sing; The early dews are falling; Into the stone-heap darts the mink; "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!" Farther, farther, over the hill, Faintly calling, calling still, "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!" Into the yard the farmer goes, With grateful heart, at the close of day: In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plough, The The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow, Inglenook The cooling dews are falling; The friendly sheep his welcome bleat, The pigs come grunting to his feet, When into the yard the farmer goes, "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!" While still the cow-boy, far away, Goes seeking those that have gone astray,— "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!" Now to her task the milkmaid goes. About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, While the pleasant dews are falling;- 66 Soothingly calling, So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!" The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, And sits and milks in the twilight cool. Saying "So! so, boss! so! so!" |