Classic Poem

The ship is on its seaward path,
And frae the shore the breezes blaw;
Now Scotland's cliffs sae dear to me
Aneath the wavin' waters fa'.
My hame is growin' far awa' —
It lies aneath yon hill-tap gray —
Yon last-seen spot o' Scotland's soil
That rises by the banks of Tay.

Fareweel, ye mossy fountains wild!
Where yon fair stream doth softly rin:
To ilka wildwood-shaded pool
To ilka tumblin' roarin' linn —
To ilka burnie that doth win
Through heathery muirs its silent way —
I bid fareweel; for now my hame
Is biggit far frae bonnie Tay.

Fareweel, ye hames o' pure delight,
That I ha'e lo'ed sae weel and lang!
Ye simmer birdies! ye maun sing
To others now your cheering sang!
Fareweel, ye holms, where lovers gang
Upon the peaceful Sabbath-day:
In youth I lov'd — in age I'll mind
The green an' bonnie Banks of Tay.

Be blessin's on ilk cot an' ha'
That by thy braes o' hazel rise;
Be a' thing bonnie where thou rins,
An' a' thing happy 'neath thy skies.
Though far frae thee my boatie flies,
The friends I love beside thee stray:
My heart fu' dead an' cauld will be
Ere I forget the banks of Tay.

The streams are wide where I am gaun,
An' on they row through boundless woods;
But dearer is thy Hieland wave
Than yonder wild and foreign floods.
Thy haughs sae green — the simmer clouds
That o'er thy shelter'd hamlets stray —
I'll mind for love an' friendship's sake:
Fareweel, ye bonnie banks of Tay.