Classic Poem

Our native land — our native vale —
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Lynden-dale,
And Cheviot mountains blue!

Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renowned in song;
Farewell, ye blithesome braes and meads
Our hearts have loved so long.

Farewell, ye broomy elfin knowes,
Where thyme and harebells grown;
Farewell, ye hoary haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe.

The battle-mound, the Border-tower,
That Scotia's annals tell;
The martyr's grave, the lover's bower —
To each — to all — farewell!

Home of our hearts! our fathers' home!
Land of the brave and free!
The keel is flashing through the foam
That bears us far from thee:

We seek a wild and distant shore
Beyond the Atlantic main;
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again:

But may dishonour blight our fame,
And quench our household fires,
When we, or ours, forget thy name,
Green Island of our Sires!

Our native land — our native vale —
A long, a last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Lynden-dale,
And Scotland's mountains blue.