I've appended below the lyrics as I've corrected them -- note that I've corrected them to the way *I* sing it -- I'm not Scottish, and I've accordingly Anglicized the words a little bit, though not so much as to destroy the rhymes. However, I would strongly encourage anyone to check either Fowke or my own recording of it -- I'm in the middle of reviving the stuff I used to sing, and you should not trust my memory (as the Annan/Langholm confusion clearly shows). Note, however, that it is Eskdale Pen, not glen.

Stan Rogers, btw, learned the song from my singing of it. AFAIAA until I began singing it in about 1977, no one was. And I recorded it in 1980 using Stan's producer, Paul Mills. I can't remember now whether Stan asked me for the words but if he did I'd have referred him to Fowke. He certainly had a tape of it at one point. Alex Campbell also picked it up from me. But of course the ultimate credit should go to Wendy Price for sitting me down and lecturing me on how I should sing it. (She also put on the same tape a song about Newfoundland refusing to join the Canadian "wolf" which I never learned, though I might now.)

I, too, got a good laugh out of Banished Swill. In fact, my mother was Swiss.

wg
A SCARBOROUGH SETTLER'S LAMENT

Away with Canada's muddy creeks
And Canada's fields of pine
Your land of wheat is a goodly land,
But oh, it is not mine
The heathy hill, the grassy dale.
The daisy spangled lea,
The purling burn and craggy linn --
Auld Scotia's land give me.

Oh, I would like to hear again
The lark on Tinny's hill
And see the wee bit gowany
That blooms beside the rill.
Like banished Swiss who views afar
His Alps with longing e'e.
I gaze upon the morning star
That shines on my country.

No more I'll win by Eskdale Pen
Or Pentland's craggy comb.
The days can ne'er come back again
Of thirty years that's gone,
But fancy oft at midnight hour
Will steal across the sea.
Yestre'en amidst a pleasant dream
I saw my own country.

Each scene that met my view
Brought childhood's joys to mind.
The blackbird sang on Tushey linn
The song he sang lang syne.
But like a dream time flies away
And then the morning came.
And I awoke in Canada,
Three thousand miles from hame.

Sandy Glendinning, 1840
Tune, Edith Fowke?
Penguin Book of Canadian Folk Songs