Oh! the happy days o' youth are fast gaun by,
And age is coming on, wi' its bleak winter sky;
...
Fare thee well, for I must leave thee;
But, oh, let not our parting grieve thee;
Happier days may yet be mine,
...
Oh! why left I my hame?
Why did I cross the deep?
Oh! why left I the land
Where my forefathers sleep?
...
'Tis the first rose of summer that opes to my view,
With its bright crimson bosom all bathed in the dew;
...
Where Manor stream rins blithe an' clear,
And Castlehill's white wa's appear,
I spent ae day, aboon a' days,
...