In quiet slumber I went once more to bonnie Scotland, that lovely
land where I was born. To feel again the gentle softness of the
falling rain, like dew that's gathered on the wafting cloud. To
bid the sun farewell and watch the mist creep slowly o'er the
friendly hills. To see the stately weeping willows gently dip to
ripple the cool clear water of the softly flowing burn.
To watch the graceful swans glide by in silent beauty undisturbed
To hear the sweet song of the lovely lark