"THE LAND O' THE LEAL."

A WIFE'S FAREWELL.

I'm wearing awa, John,
Like snaw wreaths in thaw,

I'm wearing awa

To the land o' the leal.

There 's na sorrow there, John,

There's neither cauld nor care,
The day 's aye fair

I' the land o' the leal.

O dry your glistening e'e, John,
My soul langs to be free;

Angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

Our bonny bairn 's there, John,
She was baith gude and fair,
And we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal.

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,

And joy 's coming fast,

The joy that's aye to last,

I' the land o' the leal.

Then fare ye weel, my ain John, This world's cares are vain; We'll meet, and aye be fain,

I' the land o' the leal!