Hamewith

Hot youth ever is a ranger,
New scenes ever its desire;
Cauld Eild, doubtfu’ o’ the stranger,
Thinks but o’ haudin’ in the fire.

Midway, the wanderer is weary,
Fain he’d be turnin’ in his prime
Hamewith—the road that’s never dreary,
Back where his heart is a’ the time.