It is ten weary years since I left England's shore,
In a far distant country to roam,
How I long to return to my own native land,
To my friends and the old folks at home!
Last night, as I slumbered, I had a strange dream,
One that seemed to bring distant friends near,
I dream of Old England, the land of my birth,
To the heart of her sons ever dear.
I saw the old homestead and faces I love,
I saw England's valleys and dells,
I listen'd with joy, as I did when a boy,
To the sound of the old village bells.
The log was burning brightly,
'Twas a night that should banish all sin,
For the bells went ringing the old year out,
And the new year in.
While the joyous bells rang swift I wended my way
To the cot where I lived when a boy;
And I looked in the window, Yes! there by the fire,
Sat my parents! my heart filled with joy.
The tears trickled down my bronzed, furrowed cheek
As I gazed on my mother so dear,
I knew in my heart she was raising a prayer
For the boy whom she dreamt not was near!
As the door of the cottage we met face to face,
'Twas the first time for ten weary years;
Soon the past was forgotten, we stood hand in hand,
Father, mother, and wand'rer in tears!
Once more in the fireplace the oak log burns bright,
And I promised no more would I roam;
As I sat in the old vacant chair by the hearth,
And I sang the dear song 'Home, Sweet Home!'
Writer(s): Kate Anna Rusby
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