The Book of Scottish Song/Hame 1

Hame.

[John Mitchell of Paisley.—Here first printed.]

My hame! I wadna lea' my hame,
Rough though the biggin be,
To live amid a blaze o' fame,
For what is fame to me!
In life's gay morn, wi' lightsome tread,
I roved the groves amang,
Where, still at e'en, I lay my head
To list ilk wee bird's sang.

And I have seen in lordly ha'
The fair and gay convene,
Where wreathed smiles chased care awa',
And love seem'd nature's queen;
But, O! my hame, my humble hame,
Whene'er I thought of thee,
The wreathed smile, the minstrel's fame,
Were a' forgot by me.

Ev'n yet, though on my head the snaws
O' Time begins to steal,
Youth's joys still smile within the wa's
O' my wee cozy biel.
And though to me nae gardens fair
Their sunny smiles display,
A fairer flower is blooming there
Than e'er graced minstrel's lay.

And, Peggy dear, thou art that flower,
And I will tent thee weel,
And bless, while I ha'e life, the hour
That gave thee to my biel.
My hame, my hame, my ain dear hame,
Wha wad the biggin lea',
Where smile the bairns that wear his name
Frae aff a mother's knee?

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