Oh, we ’re a’ noddin’, nid, nid, noddin’

She's mad for refusing the Laird o' Cockpen.

Gude nicht, and joy be wi' you a'.

There's nae sorrow there, John, There's neither cauld nor care, John, The day is aye fair, In the land o' the leal.

A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.

So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One.