Lenachan's Farewell

Fare thee weel, my native cot,
Bothy o' the birken-tree !
Sair the heart an' hard the lot
O' the man that parts wi' thee !
My good grandsire's hand thee rear'd —
Then thy wicker-work was full ;
Many a Campbell's glen he clear'd,
Hit the buck, an' hough'd the bull.

In thy green and grassy crook
Mair lies hid than crusted stanes ;
In thy bein and weirdly nook
Lie some stout Clan- Gillian banes.

Thou wert aye the kinsman's hame —
Routh and welcome was his fare ;
Then the eye shines so bright, the hale soul to beguile,
There's love in every whisper, and joy in every smile ;
O, wha wad choose a crown, wi' its perils and its fame,
And miss a bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame.

See yonder pawkie shepherd, that lingers on the hill,
His ewes are in the fauld, and his lambs are lying still :
Yet he dpwna gang to bed, for his heart is in a flame
To meet his bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame.

Awa' wi' fame and fortune— what comfort can they gi'e '
And a' the arts that prey upon man's life and liberty :
Gi'e me the highest joy that the heart o' man can frame -
My bonnie, bonnie lassie, when the kye come hame !

But if serf or Saxon came,
He cross'd Murich's hirst nae mair !

Never hand in thee yet bred
Kendnae how the sword to wield ;
Never heart of thine had dread
Of the foray or the field !
Ne'er on straw, mat, bulk, or bed,
Son of thine lay down to dee ;
Every lad within thee bred
Died beneath heaven's open ee !

Charlie Stuart he came here
For our king, as right became ;
Wha could shun the Bruce's heir,
Or desert his royal name ?
Firm to stand and free to fa',
Forth we march'd right valiantlie —
Gane is Scotland's king and law,
And wo to Appin and to me !

Freeman yet, I'll scorn to fret ;
Here nae langer I maun stay,
But when I my hame forget,
May my heart forget to play !
Fare thee weel, my father's cot,
Bothy o' the birken-tree !
Sair the heart and hard the lot
O' the warrior leaving thee !