Thomas Pringle

The Emigrant's Farewell

Our native land—our native vale—
     ⁠A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Tiviotdale,
     ⁠And Cheviot mountains blue.

Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
     ⁠And streams renown'd in song—
Farewell ye braes and blossom'd meads,
     ⁠Our hearts have lov'd so long.

Farewell, the blythesome broomy knowes,
⁠     Where thyme and harebells grow—
Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes,
⁠     O'erhung with birk and sloe.

The mossy cave and mouldering tower
     ⁠That skirt our native dell—
The martyr's grave, and lover's bower,
     ⁠We bid a sad farewell!

Home of our love! our father's home!
⁠     Land of the brave and free!
The sail is flapping on the foam
⁠     That bears us far from thee!

We seek a wild and distant shore,
⁠     Beyond the western main—
We leave thee to return no more,
⁠     Nor view thy cliffs again!

Our native land—our native vale—
⁠     A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
     ⁠And Scotland's mountains blue!