OH! yonder is the well-known spot, My dear, my long-lost native home! Oh! welcome is yon little cot, Where I shall rest, no more to roam! Oh! I have travell'd far and wide, O'er many a distant foreign land; Each place, each province I have tried, And sung and danced my saraband: But all their charms could not prevail To steal my heart from yonder vale. Of distant climes the false report Allured me from my native land; It bade me rove -- my sole support My cymbals and my saraband. The woody dell, the hanging rock, The chamois skipping o'er the heights; The plain adorn'd with many a flock, And, oh! a thousand more delights, That graced yon dear beloved retreat, Have backward won my weary feet. Now safe return'd, with wandering tired, No more my little home I'll leave; And many a tale of what I've seen Shall while away the winter's eve. Oh! I have wander'd far and wide, O'er many a distant foreign land; Each place, each province I have tried, And sung and danced my saraband; But all their charms could not prevail, To steal my heart from yonder vale. |