Sir Walter Scott

Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes read more

Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.

My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.

It is a disgrace to say one thing and think another; but how much
more disgraceful to write one read more

It is a disgrace to say one thing and think another; but how much
more disgraceful to write one thing and think another!