Home Along Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

When days are getting' short an' cold, an' the long nights begin,
With waves like mountains rollin' high, an' the norther blowin' thin,
Oh, then my thoughts do stretch their wings an' fly across the sea,
Home along, home along, to the place where I would be!

Home along, home along, there's deep an' leafy lanes,
Where kind an' warm's the summer sun an' soft the autumn rains;
An' many a ship to harbour comes, an' sailor home from sea,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!

I wonder how they're farin' now, the young folks an' the old,
An' if they think at all o' me, when nights are cold;
An' what's the tale on Market Strand, the news on Fish Strand Quay,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!

Home along, home along, 'tis maybe not the same
Wi' no one left but old men there, the faint 'earts an' the lame;
Who'll pull my oar to lifeboat now, when the blue lights burn at sea,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie?

I wish that 'Igh Kiel fleet would come, the waitin's cruel slow,
An' when I get my bit o' leave, oh, I know where I will go,
To sit me down beside the fire, or stroll beside the quay,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie.

Home along, home along, an' I'd like to see it now,
The ruddy furrow white wi' gulls behind my father's plough -
A friend to greet, an' a girl to meet, an' a score o' folks to see,
Home along, home along, in the West Countrie!