You’ll travel far and wide, dear, but you’ll come back
again,
You’ll come back to your father and your mother in
the glen,
Although we should be lyin’ ‘neath the heather grasses
then—
You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!

You’ll see the icebergs sailin’ along the wintry foam,
The white hair of the breakers, and the wild swans as
they roam;
But you’ll not forget the rowan beside your father’s
home
You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!

New friends will clasp your hand, dear, new faces on
you smile;
You’ll bide with them and love them, but you’ll long
for us the while;
For the word across the water, and the farewell by the
stile—
For the true heart’s here, my darlin’!

You’ll hear the wild birds singin’ beneath a brighter sky,
The roof-tree of your home, dear, it will be grand and
high;
But you’ll hunger for the hearthstone where, a child,
you used to lie—
You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!

And when your foot is weary, and when your heart is sore,
And you come back to the moor that spreads beyand
your father’s door,
There’ll be many an ancient comrade to greet you on
the shore—
At your comin’ back, my darlin’!

Ah, the hillock cannot cover, and the grass it cannot hide
The love that never changeth, whatever wind or tide;
And though you’ll not be seein’, we’ll be standin’ by
your side—
You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!

O, there’s no home like the old home, there’s no pillow
like the breast
You slumbered on in childhood, like a young bird in
the nest:
We are livin’ still and waitin’, and we’re hopin’ for the
best—
Ah, you’re comin’ back, my darlin’—comin’ back!