For fame and for fortune I wandered the earth,
And now I’ve come back to the land of my birth.
I’ve brought back my treasures but only to find,
They’re less than the pleasures I first left behind
For these are my mountains, and this is my glen.
The braes of my childhood will know me again.
No land’s ever claimed me tho’ far I did roam.
For these are my mountains and I’m going home .
The burn by the road sings, at my going by.
The whaup overhead wings, with welcoming cry.
The loch where the scart flies, at last I can see.
It’s here that my heart lies, it’s here I’ll be free.
Kind faces will meet me, and welcome me in,
And how they will greet me, my ain kith and kin.
The night round the ingle, old sangs will be sung.
At last I’ll be hearing, my ain mother tongue.
(I might be missing home a wee bit)