O! THE happy days o' youth are fast gaun by,
And age is coming on, wi' its bleak winter sky;

An' whaur shall we shelter frae its storm when they blaw,
When the gladsome days o' youth are flown awa'?

They said that wisdom came wi' manhood's riper years,
But naething did they tell o' its sorrows an' tears :
O! I'd gie a' the wit, gif ony wit be mine,
For ae sunny morning o' bonnie langsyne.

I canna dow but sigh, I canna dow but mourn,

For the blithe happy days that never can return;
When joy was in the heart, an' love was on the tongue,
An' mirth on ilka face, for ilka face was young.

O! the bonnie waving broom, whaur aften we did meet,
Wi' its yellow flowers that fell like gowd 'mang our feet;
The bird would stop its sang, but only for a wee,
As we gaed by its nest, 'neath its ain birk tree.

O! the sunny days o' youth, they couldna aye remain,
There was ower meikle joy and ower little pain ;

Sae farewell happy days, an' farewell youthfu' glee,
The young may court your smiles, but ye're gane frae me.

OH! WHY LEFI
LEFI Į MY HAME?

OH! why left I my hame?
Why did I cross the deep?
Oh why left I the land

Where my forefathers sleep?

I sigh for Scotia's shore,

And I gaze across the sea,

But I canna get a blink

O' my ain countrie.

The palm-tree waveth high,

And fair the myrtle springs, And to the Indian maid

The bulbul sweetly sings;
But I dinna see the broom,

Wi' its tassels on the lea,
Nor hear the lintie's sang
O' my ain countrie.

Oh! here, no Sabbath bell

Awakes the Sabbath morn;

Nor song of reapers heard

Amang the yellow corn; For the tyrant's voice is here, And the wail of slavery; But the sun of freedom shines In my ain countrie.

There's a hope for every woe, And a balm for every pain, But the first joys of our heart Come never back again. There's a track upon the deep, And a path across the sea, But the weary ne'er return

To their ain countrie.

O! WHAT IS THIS WORLD, WI' ITS
WEALTH AND REVOWY.

O! WHAT is this world, wi' its wealth and renown,
If content is awanting ilk pleasure to crown?
And where that does dwell, be 't in cot e'er sae low,
There's a joy and a gladness nae wealth can bestow.

There's mony a wee biggin', in forest and glen,

Wi' its clean sandit floor, an' its but and its ben,

Where there's mair o' that peace which contentment aye

brings,

Than is found in the palace o' princes or kings.

We canna get fortune, we canna get fame,

We canna behind us a' leave a bit name;
But this we can a' hae, and, O! 'tis na sma',
A heart fu' o' kindness, to ane and to a'!

They say that life's short, and they dinna say wrang,
For the langest that live can ne'er ca' it lang;
Then, since it is sae, make it pleasant the while;
If it gang by sae soon, let it gang wi' a smile.