We're a' a prood and stubborn lot, And clannish—sae fowk name us— Ay, but with sic guid cause none ought Tae judge us, or tae blame us,
For joys that are we'll pledge to-day A land baith fair and glowing— Here's tae the hames o' Canada, Wi' luve and peace o'erflowing!
For joys that were, for auld lang syne, For tender chords that bind us, A toast—your hand, auld friend, in mine— "The land we left behind us!"
Ho, lowlanders! Ho, hielandmen! We'll toast her a' thegither, Here's tae each bonnie loch and glen! Here's tae her hills and heather!
Here's tae the auld hame far away! While tender mists do blind us, We'll pledge on this, St. Andrew's day, "The land we left behind us!"
WHEN TREES ARE GREEN.
Would you be glad of heart and good? Would you forget life's toil and care? Come, lose yourself in this old wood When May's soft touch is everywhere.
The hawthorn trees are white as snow, The basswood flaunts its feathery sprays, The willows kiss the stream below And listen to its flatteries: