OH for the bonnie heather bell,
The hardy mountain heather bell,
Free may it wave, on hill and dale.
My country's flower, the heather bell!
When Scotland's sons for glory fought, And with their blood our freedom bought, The reddened earth, where heroes fell, Gave grateful back the heather bell.
It waved on many a bonnet blue,
On fields the vanquished Southron knew,
From sweet Glengarry's birken dell,
Macdonell's badge, the heather bell.
Rugged and wild is lone Glencoe,
Dark scene of treachery and woe ;
Yet, like the spirit none can quell,
E'en there springs up the heather bell.
It blooms on sad Culloden's muir,
Like rosaries of rubies pure ;
And there we kneel, our beads to tell
For those who loved the heather bell.
When our own royal Charlie strayed
Through rocky glen and ferny glade,
Fain with the hunted deer to dwell,
His bed was of the heather bell.
Oh, dearer far than myrtle fair,
Dearer than palm or olive rare,
What Scottish heart but needs must swell,
In praise of our true heather bell!
And with the royal snow-white rose,
While our unconquered thistle grows,
To memory dear, we'll love it well,
Our country's flower-the heather bell.
Now railway lines our land beset,
From every quarter brought,
Like a gigantic spider's net
In which poor flies are caught.
Blackening the fair and fruitful earth,
Destroying homesteads old;
For Nature's gems of priceless worth
Bartering unhallowed gold.
A weary wanderer by the train
Once ever went and came, For sudden grief had turned his brain : Poor Railway Bob his name.
He wandered ever to and fro,
To seek a dear lost friend,
Resolved in faithful quest to go
Till his sad life should end.
From north to south, from east to west,
He wandered up and down;
His weary foot found never rest
In village nor in town.
But all were kind to him, and sought
No money for his fare,
They knew his task so dearly bought-
All made him welcome there.
At rising morn, or dewy eve,
When ticket-gatherers came,
A kindly nod did Bob receive,
They never asked his name.
In the refreshment-rooms, again,
Along each railway line,
They always made him welcome, when
Poor Bob would stop to dine.
Their kindness to that grateful heart
Brought blessing to their store,
For when poor Bob turned to depart
Traffic increased the more.
Poor heart! to wander year by year
With sad and wistful eye
Scanning each platform far and near,
The lost form to descry.
Never to see it-never more
To gladden or rejoice :
It lived in memory's mirrored store,
She alone knew the voice.
At length Bob's weary quest was done :
He slipped his foot, and fell-
Killed by the cruel train that long
Befriended him so well.
Poor old and faithful heart so true,
His like where shall we see!
Would any one do that for you,
Kind reader, or for me?
Once to the railway he had paid
Four joints from off his tail ;--
For Bob was but a loving dog,
And herewith ends my tale.
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