Classic Poem

The loch where first the stream doth rise
Is bonniest to my e'e;
An' yon auld-warld hame o' youth
Is dearest aye to me.
My heart wi' Joy may up be heez'd,
Or down wi' Sorrow worn:
But O! it never can forget
The toun where I was born!

The lowly hames beside the burn,
Where happy hearts were growin';
The peasant huts where, purely bright,
The light o' love was flowin';
The wee bit glebes, where honest men
Were toilin' e'en an' morn, —
Are a' before me, when I mind
The toun where I was born.

O! there were bonnie faces there,
An' hearts baith high an' warm,
That neebors loved, an' strain'd fu' sair
To keep a friend frae harm.
Nae wealth had they; but something still
They spared when ane forlorn,
The puir auld beggar bodie, ca'd,
The toun where I was born.

The gray auld man was honor'd there,
The matron's words were cherish'd;
An' honesty in youthfu' hearts
By Age's words was nourish'd.
An' though e'en there we coudna get
The rose without the thorn,
It was a happy, happy place,
The toun where I was born!

Yon heather-theekit hames were blithe,
When winter nights were lang,
Wi' spinnin-wheels, an jokin' lads,
An' ilka lassie's sang.
At Handsel-Monday we had mirth,
An' when the hairst was shorn,
The Maidens cam' — 'twas cheerfu' aye
The toun where I was born.

I maist could greet, I am sae wae —
The very wa's are gane —
The autumn-shilfa sits an' chirps
Upon ilk cauld hearthstane;
Ae auld aik-tree or maybe twa,
Amang the waivin' corn,
Is a' the mark that Time hast left
O' the toun where I was born.