MY MUIRLAND HAME. 11 



When the throssle whistles on the bough, 



An' the lark his pinions spread, 

 Up heavenward, wi' joyfu' sang, 



Frae the bonnie banks o' Reed. 



for anehour on Hepple Heugh, 



Where often I hae been, 

 Reclining on yon mossy knowe, 



To view the lovely scene ; 

 The bounding pulse of liberty 



Wad then ance rnair be freed, 

 While pondering on youtli's early prime, 



On the bonnie banks o' Reed. 



INSCRIBED TO MY CLANSMAN, THOMAS ARMSTRONG 

 OF THE LOW LEAZES. 



( Written wlien the Author ivas on the banks of the 

 JSeaver River, North America.) 



MY bonnie, bonnie Muirland hame, 



I rue that I left thee, 

 An' a' Northumbrians hills and dales, 



To cross the Atlantic sea. 

 O ! gie me back my knowes an' flowes, 



And tak yer wealth and fame, 

 Yer boundless woods, and prairies wide, 



Gie me mv muirland hame. 



