Because my dearest wish if to go back home to Scotland before I die.
I'd see the friendly faces who make me feel at home
Cause when I am in Scotland I never feel alone.
I can go up to the mountains and look down o'er the land
It's as though the Lord holds Scotland in the center of his hand.
And if you go to Scotland and to Montrose you come
Could you stop by my house and say hello to mum.
Just tell her that.....I'm great....I'm fine I think of home most all the time
But tell her I'm not all that sad cause the USA's not all that bad.
(Kitty 74)
Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat and we can eat
Sae let the Lord be thankit.
Ten Thousand miles across the sea to this new land came we
Tho' it's no the same we ha'e made a hame and maun contented be.
Tis' a land of wide horizons and rich in gowd and gear
Oor bairns comin' efter will hold this country dear.
But they'll never know the green green hills And laughing tumbling rivers
Nor hear the darlin'Throstle sing and watch the Lark on soaring wing
Till lost in the high blue Heavens.
The sun glares doon frae brazen sky on earth sae bare and dry
I long for mists and cooler airs but Scotland I shall see nae mair,
And OH!!!!!...my he'rt is sair.
Nessie
Have you heard of the monster that's up in Loch Ness?
It comes out of the water and walks on the gress,
He has a head like a snake and a big Highland coo,
And I'm here now to show him to you.
Now don't make a noise, for he's like ma sel'
He might take a notion to stay in Kirkell
For the lassies are sweet there, bonny and shy
They smile all the while and give the glad eye.
There are lumps on his back on his neck there is hair
He's got eye's like gig-lamps with a terrible glare
He's thirty feet long so I read in the news
Soon he'll be wearing the kilt or the trews.
Scouts and explorers are on the alert
But they won't catch the monster, that is a cert.
For I am the hero and I've come to tell
How I went up to Loch Ness and caught him mysel'.
Scots, whom Bruce has often led.
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' muckle fash and din
"Oh try and sleep,ye waukrife rougues:
your faithers comin' in
They never heed a word I speak,
I try to gie a froon,
But aye I hap them up an cry,
"Oh bairnies,"Cuddle doon"
Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid,
He aye sleeps next the wa'
Bangs up and cries"I want a piece"
The rascal starts them a'
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks
They slop awee the soun'
Then draw the blankets up an' cry
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon"
But ere five minutes gang,
wee Rab cries oot frae 'neath the claes
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at once
He's kittlin' wi' his taes"
The mischiefs in that Tam for tricks
He'd bother half the toon
But aye I hap them up an' cry
Oh bairnies cuddle doon.
At length they hear their faithers fit:
An' as he steeks the door
They turn their faces to the wa'
While Tam pretends to snore
"Hae a' the weans been gude? he asks
As he pits aff his shoon.
"The Bairnies, John are in there beds,
An' lang since cuddled doon".
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear to me,
But soon the big warl's cark and care
Will quaten doon their glee,
Yet, come what will to ilka yin
May He who rules aboon
Aye whisper though their pows be bald.
"Oh bairnies cuddle doon.
I'm hame again! I'm hame again tae the land I love so we'll,
Hame tae the couthie village where I started tae the skool
Hame tae aa the sichts an souns I've treasured in ma ha'irt,
Aa the years I've been awaa in a far aff foreign pairt.
I'm hame again! I'm hame again I'm toddlin' doon the brae,
Tae the close amang the tenements, far as bairns we yeist ta play.
There's ma mums kitchen winda, but I ken she's no at hame.
She's been awaa lang syne ye ken, an the place is nae the same.
The hedge is missing roon the front, the pailins are awa,
They've modernised the tenements an made ae hoose oot o twa.
There's nae a face about the place I ever saw afore,
There's nae yis hingin' roon aboot fit aince was my mums door.
I'll dander doon the road a bit an see fit I can see,
There's bound ta be a bunch o fowk that surely mind o me.
Jist then a woman stoppit me an shook me by the haun'
I heard that ye were hame again, ye're fairly lookin' gran'.
I wis a bittie taken back, an' searched her wrinkled face,
Bit fer the very life o me her name I couldna place,
I felt just black-affronted fan she said "Ye surely min',
Gale Strang, ye yeist ta play wi me fan ye were jist a quine".
An so it was at every turn, fan fawk wid speak to me,
I couldna place a single face I'd kint when I was wee.
Bewildered and embarressed, I wondered doon the brae,
Tae far ma ain lied sleepin' in the kirk-yard auld and grey.
An there, for hauf a day or mair in silence aa alain.
I visited amang the graves readin' every stane
An then it wis that I woke up- eh! bit, the dream was real!
Bit the fact that it wis jist a dream is maybe jist as weel.