Carolina Oliphant

(1766-1845 / Scotland)

Fareweel, Edinburgh


Fareweel, Edinburgh, where happy we hae been,
Fareweel, Edinburgh, Caledonia's Queen!
Auld Reekie, fare-ye-weel, and Reekie New beside,
Ye're like a chieftain grim and gray, wi' a young bonny bride.
Fareweel, Edinburgh, and your trsty Volunteers,
Your Council a' sae circumspect, your Provost without peers,
Your stately College stuff'd wi' lear, your rantin' High-Schule yard;
The jib, the lick, the roguish trick, the ghaists o' th' auld toun-guard.

Fareweel, Edinburgh, your philosophic men;
Your scribes that set you a' to richts, and weidld the golden pen;
The Session-court, your thrang resort, bigwigs and lang gowns a';
And if ye dinna keep the peace, it's no for want o' law.
Farweel, Edinburgh, and a' your glittering wealth;
Your Bernard's Well, your Calton Hill, where every breeze is health;
An' spite o' a' your fresh sea-gales, should ony chance to dee,
It's no for want o' recipe, the doctor, or the fee.

Fareweel, Edinburgh, your hospitals and ha's,
The rich man's friend, the Cross lang ken'd, auld Ports, and city wa's;
The Kirks that grace their honoured place, now peacefu' as they stand,
Where'er they're found, on Scottish ground, the bulwarks of the land.
Fareweel, Edinburgh, your sons o' genius fine,
That send your name on wings o' fame beyond the burnin' line;
A name that's stood maist since the flood, and just when it's forgot,
Your bard will be forgotten too, your ain Sir Walter Scott.

Fareweel, Edinburgh, and a' your daughters fair;
Your Palace in the sheltered glen, your Castle in the air;
Your rocky brows, your grassy knowes, and eke your mountain bauld;
Were I to tell your beauties a', my take would ne'er be tauld;
Now, fareweel, Edinburgh, where happy we hae been;
Fareweel, Edinburgh, Caledonia's Queen!
Prosperity to Edinburgh wi' every risin' sun,
And blessin's be on Edinburgh till time his race has run!

Submitted: Wednesday, September 15, 2010

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