| OCR Text |
Show Comin' Hame To my ain dear lo'in' wife, She that's comforted my life, Wha's lo'e has nae yet failit, Wha's courage nae yet quailit, Whan problems sair beset us, Whan cares an' sorrows met us- To thee an' hame I'm comin', Frae a' my happy roamin' 'Mang regions grit dead sleepin', Wha's mem'ry we are keepin'; Frae towers gray an' gruesome Wi' deeds o' blude sae ruesome; Frae cities grit an' sma' too, Whar poets sang, an' a' too Soon hae drop'd thir strains o' rhyme An' soar'd awa' t'ither clime; Frae college town and clatter, Whar philosophic matter Hae muckle worri'd teachers While makin' a' thir preachers- Frae a' sic things I'm comin' hame, Thankfu', rested-- yours the same, Staff in hand an' bag strap'd on, Hat aboon an' heart still warm- To thee, waiting, winsome wife, To spend the remnant o' my life, I'm comin' hame. Your pilgrim. S. E. W. |
