“ The martyr’s grave, and lover’s bower
⁠We bid a sad farewell!
Home of our love! our fathers’ home!
⁠Land of the brave and free!
The sail is flapping on the foam
⁠That bears us far from thee!
We seek a wild and distant shore,
⁠Beyond the western main———
We leave thee to return no more,
⁠Nor view thy cliffs again!
Our native land———our native vale———
⁠A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Tivotdale,
⁠And Scotland’s mountains blue!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”

“ A FIGHT FOR THE BREECHES.
Sung by Mr. Potts, Theatrical Pavilion, Glasgow.
I’ve often heard Will’s wife declare,
That she the breeches, Sirs, would wear;
And though her husband would resist,
For them she'd fight with nails and fist,
⁠To gain, to gain the breeches.
One day as they were at it driving,
(Who would he master they were striving)
A single rap came to the door,
And for a while they did give o’er
⁠Fighting, fighting, fighting for the breeches.
Will ope’d the door, the business asked;
When he who knocked poor Will thus tasked,
“The master of this house I want!” ”