Away wi' Canada's muddy creeks
And Canada's fields of pine
Your land of wheat is a goodly land
But oh, it is not mine
The heathy hill, the grassy date
The daisy spangled lea, the purling burn and craggy linn, auld
Scotland's glens give me

Oh, I would like to hear again the lark on Tinny's hill
And see the wee bit gowany that blooms beside the rill
Like banished Swill who view afar his Alps with longing e'e
I gaze upon the morning star that shines on my country

No more I'll win by Eskdale glen or Pentland's craggy comb
The days can ne'er come back again of thirty years that's gone
But fancy oft at midnight hour will steal across the sea
And yestereve, in a pleasant dream, I saw the old country

Each well-known scene that met my view brought childhood's joys
To mind
The blackbird sang on Tushey linn the song he sang, 'lang syne.'
But like a dream time flies away, again, the morning came
And I awoke in Canada, three thousand miles frae hame
But like a dream time flies away, again, the morning came
And I awoke in Canada, three thousand miles frae hame