Poetry Archives

I’m wearin’ awa’, John
Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
I’m wearin’ awa’
  To the land o’ the leal.
There ’s nae sorrow there, John,
There ’s neither cauld nor care, John,
The day is aye fair
  In the land o’ the leal.

Our bonnie bairn ’s there, John,
She was baith gude and fair, John;
And O! we grudged her sair
  To the land o’ the leal.
But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John,
And joy ’s a-coming fast, John,
The joy that ’s aye to last
  In the land o’ the leal.

Sae dear ’s the joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu’ man e’er brought
  To the land o’ the leal.
O, dry your glistening e’e, John!
My saul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me
  To the land o’ the leal.

O, haud ye leal and true, John!
Your day it ’s wearin’ through, John,
And I’ll welcome you
  To the land o’ the leal.
Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
This warld’s cares are vain, John,
We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain,
  In the land o’ the leal.