'Thou killed my father, thou vile South'ron! An' ye killed my brethren three! Whilk brake the heart o' my ae sister, I loved as the light o' my e'e! 'Draw out thy sword, thou vile South'ron Red wat wi' blude o' my kin! That sword it crapped the bonniest flower E'er lifted its head to the sun! 'There's ae sad stroke for my dear auld father! There's twa for my brethren three! An' there's ane to thy heart for my ae sister, Wham I loved as the light o' my e'e.' HAME, HAME, HAME HAME, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree, The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countrie; Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! The green leaf o' loyalty's begun for to fa', The bonny white rose it is withering an' a'; But I'll water't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie, An' green it will grow in my ain countrie. Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie! O there's naught frae ruin my country can save, But the keys o' kind heaven to open the grave, That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie, May rise again and fight for their ain countrie. Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie! The great are now gane, a' wha ventured to save, The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave; But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e, 'I'll shine on ye yet in yer ain countrie.' Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, Hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie. A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind! I heard a landsman cry; But give to me the snoring breeze, And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my boys, The good ship tight and free-- The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; And hark the music, mariners, The wind is piping loud; The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashing free-- While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. MY NANIE O RED rows the Nith 'tween bank and brae, Mirk is the night and rainie O, Though heaven and earth should mix in storm, I'll gang and see my Nanie O; My Nanie O, my Nanie O; My kind and winsome Nanie O, She holds my heart in love's dear bands, And nane can do't but Nanie O. In preaching-time sae meek she stands, Sae saintly and sae bonny O, I cannot get ae glimpse of grace, For thieving looks at Nanie O; My Nanie O, my Nanie O; The world's in love with Nanie O; That heart is hardly worth the wear That wadna love my Nanie O.