ORIGINAL POETRY.

Southland Times, Issue 931, 10 April 1868, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE COTTAR'S FAREWELL TO HIS AULD HOUSE. By. John G. Smith. Fareweel my auld cot, my cantie wee bourock, Where mony a sweet happy day I ha'e seen, Tho' your roof be the thatch and your riggin the sourock, To leave you the saut tears are bunding my e'e. I ha'e lived 'neath your roof sin' I was a wee callan, When the blossoms o' hope are entwined round the heart ; My simmer o' life I ha'e spent round your hallan, And when autumn has come I am forced to depart. Twas to you, my sweet cot (for well I remember) I first led my Peggie, a blithe blushing bride, And around our bit ingle the storms of December "Were sunshine to me as she sat by my side. And ilk year fleeted on and increased Our affection, Our weans prattled round us and filled us wi' glee ; Dear, dearer than a' is the sweet recollection Of our heaven of bliss while we sojourned in thee. Oh! how closely I cling +o my ance happy dwellin', But it's vain to express what nae ither can feel, Nane can banish the grief in my bosom that's swelling, The wounds o' the heart nae mortal can heal. Ye ha'e seen the tall tree the fair landscape adornin' Uproot d and torn by the rude winter's bla9t, And ihe flow'ret that smiled in the dew of the mornin', Ere e'enin' lie withered like a dream o' the past. 'Tis c'en sac wi' me as I leave my auld dwellin', And wander, an outcast, to lands far away ; A' the bright gladsome dreams of the future dispellin', That ha'e fled like the mist at the breakin o' day. I thoucht to ha'e spent my last days neath your riggin', And breathe my last sigh amang frien's that are dear; Alas ! for the castles that folks aye are biggin 1 There's naething bat changes as lang as we're here. Fareweel, my wee cot, my cantie bit bourock, Where mony a sweet gladsome day I ha'e seen, Though your roof be the thatch and your riggin' the sourock, To leave you the saut tears are bunding my e'en.