Land O' the Leal, The. 
By Nairne, Lady Carolina. 


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's aye fair
In the land o' the leal.

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

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

Oh 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.