I ’ve wandered east, I ’ve wandered west

And we, with Nature’s heart in tune, Concerted harmonies.

’T was then we luvit ilk ither weel, ’T was then we twa did part: Sweet time—sad time! twa bairns at scule— Twa bairns and but ae heart.

Mournfully, oh, mournfully, The midnight wind doth sigh, Like some sweet plaintive melody Of ages long gone by.

America, I raised a boy for you. America, you'll find him staunch and true, Place a gun upon his shoulder, He is ready to die or do. America, he is my only one; My hope, my pride and joy, But if I had another, He would march beside his …

All sensible people agree in thinking that large seminaries of young ladies, though managed with all the vigilance and caution which human abilities can exert, are in danger of great corruption.

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.