By Violet Jacob

Ma buits are at rest on the midden
I haena a plack;
Ma breeks are no dandy anes, forrit,
And waur at the back;
On the road that comes oot o' the Heilands
I see as I trayvel the airth
Frae the braes at the back o' Rohallion
The reek abune Pairth.

There's a canny wee hoose wi' a gairden
In a neuk o' Strathtay;
Ma mither is bakin' the bannocks,
The weans are at play;
And at gloamin' ma feyther, the shepherd,
Looks doon for a blink o' the licht
When he gethers the yowes at the shieling
Tae fauld them at nicht

There isna a hoose that could haud me
Frae here tae the sea
When a wind frae o' Rohallion
Comes creepin' tae me;
And niver a lowe frae the ingle
Can draw like the trail an' the shine
O' the stars I' the loch o' Rohallion
A fitstep o' mine.

There's snaw I' the wind, an' the weepies
Hang deid on the shaw,
An' pale the leaves left on the rowan,
I'm southward awa';
But a voice like a wraith blaws ahint me
And sings as I'm liftin' ma pack,
"I am waitin' -- Rohallion, Rohallion --
Ma lad, ye'll be back