  Miles upon miles of ocean ’Twixt Scotland roll and me. Its hills and dales I have not seen, And scarce expect to see. The homestead of my fathers The keen ploughshare has torn, And where the hearth once welcomed all Waves now the golden corn. Oh, Canada, my country, My love for thee is deep, Yet I fain would see the old church-yard Where my forefathers sleep. And fondly, ever fondly, My heart in secret yearns, That its songs may find a welcome In the bonnie land of Burns. Upon the Scottish heather I opened not my eyes, I cannot speak the sweet Scotch tongue, Remote my pathway lies; Yet Scotland, mother Scotland, Though fate us twain may part, I claim my heritage of thee, For I have the Scottish heart. |
|
