Prologue
My friends, we sing Canadian themes,
For in them we proudly glory;
Her lakes, her rivers and her streams,
Worthy of renown in story.
And in these leaves we hope is strewn
Some wheat among the chaff
And maple boughs, by rude axe hewn
Where one may find a rustic staff
To help him o'er the rugged lines.
Some see no beauties near to home,
But do admire the distant far -
They always love abroad to roam,
View glory in but far off star;
But, let it never be forgot
That distant hills, when closer seen,
Are after all a barren spot -
Not like your own hills, clad in green.
You'll find they are but idle dreams,
To search for happiness afar:
At home there's lovely lakes and streams,
Remain content now where you are.
At us we hope you will not rage
Because we sing of local charms
In each varied town and village,
As well as round our rural farms.
But our address it must be brief,
So we bid you now all adieu;
But, of our book, pray read each leaf,
Until the whole you have gone through;
Each one doth know it is not wise,
Though our song may not be vocal,
Chants of our home for to despise,
But prize them 'cause they are local.
poem by James McIntyre
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Related quotes
Celebrate Me Home
Home for the holidays,
I believe Ive missed each and every face,
Come on and play my music,
Lets turn on the love light in the place
Its time I found myself,
Totally surrounded in your circles
Whoa, my friends
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
And I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can sing me home.
Uneasy highway,
Traveling where the westerly winds can fly,
Somebody tried to tell me,
But the men forgot to tell me why,
I gotta count on being gone,
Come on woman, come on daddy,
Be what you want from me,
Im this strong, Ill be weak
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can make believe Ive never gone,
I never know where I belong,
Sing me home.
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
(fade)
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shelley
England had triplets at a birth,
Coleridge, Southy and Wordsworth,
And these three were widely famed,
And the 'Lake Poets' they were named.
With joy they did pursue their themes,
'Mong England's lakes, and hills and streams;
From there with gladness they could view
The distant Scottish mountains blue.
poem by James McIntyre
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Hide & Seek
There was a time when there was nothing at al
Nothing at all, just a distant hum
There was a being and he lived on his own
He had no one to talk to, and nothing to do
He drew up the plans, learnt to work with his hands
A million years passed by and his work was done
And his words were these...
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it, hope you find it
Hope you find me in you
So she had built her elaborate home
With its ups and its downs, its rains and its sun
She decided that her work was done, time to have fun
And she found a game to play
Then as part of the game
She completely forgot where shed hidden herself
And she spent the rest of her time
Trying to find the parts
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it, hope you find it
Hope you find me in you
There was a time when there was nothing at all, nothing at all
Just a distant hum
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Streets Of Glory
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In France
THE silence of maternal hills
Is round me in my evening dreams;
And round me music-making rills
And mingling waves of pastoral streams.
Whatever way I turn I find
The path is old unto me still.
The hills of home are in my mind,
And there I wander as I will.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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Come Home My Son, Come Home
As I travel across this country
the land that I love best
with its snowy peaked mountains
that lay out of reach in the west.
The rivers and the lakes
where nature grows at its best.
The forests and the plains
that each has their part
in the land I love the best.
I write from a distant shore
with dreams of coming home again
ever always on my mind.
Seeing once again friends
from a long, long time ago.
The land that I live in is not to my desire.
My home is ten thousand miles away,
and each time I see it,
it’s like the birth of a new day.
The cities are filled with people
and in the countryside; you can breathe in the fresh air.
The more I dream about it,
the more I wish to be there.
It is not the land of my birth,
but the place that I call home.
That distant country keeps calling to me
come home my son, come home.
31 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Irish Convict's Return
Ye mountains and glens of Old Ireland,
I've returned home to ye again;
During my absence from ye
My heart always felt great pain.
Oh, how I long'd to see you dear Nora,
And the old folks at home;
And the beautiful Lakes o' Killarney,
Where we oft together did roam.
Ye beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Ye are welcome to me again;
I will now reform my character,
And from all bad company refrain.
Oh, how I have long'd to see my old father
And my mother dearer than all;
And my favourite dog Charlie
That wont to come at my call.
Ye green hills and lakes of Old Ireland,
Ye are dearer than life unto me;
Many sleepless nights I have had
Since my banishment from thee.
But to-night I will see the old folks
And my dear Nora too ...
And she and I will get married,
And I'm sure we will never rue.
And we may have plenty of children,
And for them I will work like a man.
And I hope Nora and I will live happy,
And do the best we can.
For my own part, I will never grumble,
But try and be content ...
And walk in the paths of virtue,
And remember my banishment.
And at night at the fireside with Nora,
I will tell her of my limbs being bound,
And all my great hardships endured,
And how I was lash'd like a hound.
And when my story is ended,
Nora will sympathise with her tears,
Which will help to drown my sorrow,
And help me through coming years.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
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The Emigrant's Farewell
Our native land - our native vale -
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Cheviot mountains blue.
Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renown'd in sing -
Farewell ye braes and blossom'd meads,
Our hearts have lov'd so long.
Farewell, the blythesome broomy knowes,
Where thyme and harebells grow -
Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe.
The mossy cave and mouldering tower
That skirt our native dell -
The martyr's grave, and lover's bower,
We bid a sad farewell!
Home of our love! our fathers' home!
Land of the brave and free!
The sail is flapping on the foam
That bears us far from thee.
We seek a wild and distant shore,
Beyond the western main -
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again!
Our native land - our native vale -
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Scotland's mountains blue!
poem by Thomas Pringle
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Donald Ross
A Scottish - Canadian tale.
By the side of moss
Lived young Donald Ross,
Among the heathery hills
And the mountain rills,
In a snug little cot,
Content with his lot,
He never knew sorrow,
With his wife and wee Flora.
But an order went forth,
O'er the land of the north,
To burn many a home
So the wild deer might roam.
With grief he then did toss
All that night, Donald Ross,
And sad seemed the morrow
For his wife and sma' Flora.
Oh ! it was a cruel deed,
But nobles do not heed
The sorrows of the poor.
Drove on a barren moor,
Where he wove a wreath
Of the blooming heath,
For to crown with glory
The brow of little Flory.
He then bade farewell
To his mountain dell,
Where his fathers appears
Had lived a thousand years,
With their few goats and sheep
Which fed on hills so steep.
Oh, it was a sad story
For bonnie little Flora.
He sought a distant strand,
In Canada bought land,
To him a glorious charm
To view his own broad farm,
His horses and his cows,
Cultivators and plows ;
And now his daughter Flora
She is the flower of Zorra.
poem by James McIntyre
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Far Away From Home
Lead vocal: the flying pickets
Weve come so far
To hear the words
Of hope and consolation
With no star to guide us through the night
Through many realms of fantasy
We wander and we roam
Far away from home
Then all of those
We held so dear
Grew tired of understanding
And we dream through the endless night alone
What sun can light this darkness
And what hand remove this stone
Far away, far away
Like a leaf that the wind has blown
Far away, far away
Far away from home
Far away from home
All that I am
What Ive become
Will I ever find my place in the sun
What sun can light this darkness
And what hand remove this stone
Far away, far away
Will I ever find my place in the sun
Far away
I could be happy then
Far away
Ill find jerusalem
Far away from home
Far away from home
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrong Direction Home
In a shingle covered cottage at the foothills of blue stacks
Near a mountain stream thats flowing crystal clear
Where the humming birds and honey bees feed on mamas roses
My memries just grow sweeter with the years
Memries of my childhood are as sweet as mountain honey
And as fresh as a dew on morning glory vines
I grew up surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature
And theyre forever present in my mind
But Im headed in the wrong direction home
Headed in the wrong direction home
Theres no place like home
But Im headed in the wrong direction home
Teardrops mingled with the summer rain that was a falling
The day I left my mountain home behind
With a suitcase in my hand and a hope in my heart
I was following a dream I had to find
In that shingled covered cottage at the foothills of the smokies
Waits a family hat Im longing to see
And mountain streams and fields of green
And rolling hills stay in my dreams
But Im many, many miles from tennessee
And still headed in the wrong direction home
Headed in the wrong direction home
But maybe Ill get back before too long
But Im headed in the wrong direction home
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christ in me, the hope of glory
Christ in me is the hope of glory.
Sing my heart of the wondrous story.
A song of love to my Lord Jesus.
Who gave His life to redeem us.
Sing of Him who came down to save me
And of the new life that He gave me
For Christ is the One whom I worship
Far above all men He is worth it.
Worthy of the glory and of praise
So to heaven let my anthem raise
Sing out to Him Who's enthroned above
My Lord of Glory and King of love
Over the Hills for M'lady Ernestine
Over the hills.
Beyond the distant hills there lies.
A wonderland a paradise.
Not often seen by mortal eyes.
Alternative reality
which only dreamers ever see.
Imagination is the key.
That’s needed to unlock the door
and let your restless spirit soar
on high to where it can explore.
Beyond the range of normal sigh
to scenes which guarantee delight
and satisfy your appetite.
For things that may or may not be.
Indulge your taste for fantasy
Imagine what you want to see
Beyond the hills you can pretend
that you have found the rainbows end
You’ll find your day dreams can transcend.
All of the normal boundaries.
You can imagine what you please.
No limit to your fantasies.
Nobody can dispute the view
which you accept as being true.
Your dreams belong only to you.
Though other folks have different dreams.
Of crystal pools and flowing streams.
Each to their own or so it seems.
Beyond the distant hills there lies
a wonderland a paradise.
That’s only seen by dreamer’s eyes.
Tuesday,10 August 2010.
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Christmas Fancy
Early on Christmas Day,
Love, as awake I lay,
And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly,
My heart stole through the gloom
Into your silent room,
And whispered to your heart, `I love you dearly.'
There, in the dark profound,
Your heart was sleeping sound,
And dreaming some fair dream of summer weather.
At my heart's word it woke,
And, ere the morning broke,
They sang a Christmas carol both together.
Glory to God on high!
Stars of the morning sky,
Sing as ye sang upon the first creation,
When all the Sons of God
Shouted for joy abroad,
And earth was laid upon a sure foundation.
Glory to God again!
Peace and goodwill to men,
And kindly feeling all the wide world over,
Where friends with joy and mirth
Meet round the Christmas hearth,
Or dreams of home the solitary rover.
Glory to God! True hearts,
Lo, now the dark departs,
And morning on the snow-clad hills grows grey.
Oh, may love's dawning light
Kindled from loveless night,
Shine more and more unto the perfect day!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Emigrant's Vision
As his bark dashed away on the night-shrouded deep,
And out towards the South he was gazing,
First there passed o’er his spirit a darkness like sleep,
Then the light of a vision amazing!
As rises the moon, from the white waves afar
Came a goddess, it seemed, of love, wisdom, and war,
And on her bright helmet, encircling a star,
Behold there was graven “Australia.”
Her robes were of green, like the mantle of spring
Newly spread by the streams that so mildly
Flow on through yon flock-dappled plains, or that sing
’Mid those blue ranging mountains so wildly:
Her locks were as bright as the lustre that lies
At morn on the seas of the South, and her eyes
Were as deep in their joy as the clear sunny skies—
The clear sunny skies of Australia.
“O stranger!” she said, “hast thou fled from the home
Which they forefathers bled for so vainly?
Does shame for its past thus induce thee to roam,
Or despair of its future constrain thee?
In the far sunny South there’s a refuge from wrong,
’Tis the Shiloh of freedom expected so long;
There genius and glory shall shout forth their song—
’Tis the evergreen land of Australia.
“There Truth her abode on the forest-clad hills
Shall establish, a dweller for ever,
And Plenty rejoice by the gold-pebbled rills,
Well mated to honest endeavour,
Till the future a numberless people shall see,
Eager, and noble, and equal, and free,
And the God they adore their sole monarch shall be—
Then come, build thy home in Australia!”
She said. Towards the South she passed brightly away,
And at once, as from slumber, he started;
But the cadences sweet of the welcoming lay
Yet breathed of the vision departed;
And when o’er the deep these had fadingly spread,
The swell of his heart, as he rose from his bed,
Broke loud into words on his tongue, and he said—
“Be the home of my hope, then, Australia!”
poem by Charles Harpur
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In Sports As In Life
The town decorated in the colours of the local football club for the weekend's big game
Suppose in sports as in life it is all about winning and fame
The local footballers are playing for renown
For the fans and love of self glory and love of the Hometown
And for love of the club colours they proudly do wear
The very thought of losing even seems hard to bear
To the uninterested 'tis just another game of football
But in sports as in life the winners seem to take all
Of the admiration and fame and of singing their praises their fans never tire
And even gallant losers so few seem to admire
To be graceful in defeat to little does amount
In sports as in life only winners seem to count
At the weekend they play for the trophy and their self glory and sporting renown
And for their sporting succes hungry fans and for love of their Hometown.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lines on Beachville
Of Beachville, village of the plain,
We now will sing a short refrain,
For here the Thames doth pleasant flow
And charms to landscape doth bestow ;
Though river here it is not deep,
Yet banks slope graceful up the steep
And from the summit of the hills
You look down on the famed lime kilns,
And 'tis full worthy poets rhyme
The whiteness of thy pure fine lime.
Your glory never shall be gone
While you have quarries of this stone ;
In influence you yet will wax
With mills for flour and also flax.
poem by James McIntyre
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Gratification
We occasionally get a few gleams of encouragement while struggling through the trials
of life.A number of years ago a person employed by the Dominion Government to give
sketches of the various towns in Canada, and especially to describe the power of the
various streams and the number of streams in each town or neighborhood ; he came to us,
as we had written rhymes on the rivers and creeks. Years afterwards we were informed by
persons who came from Britain, as the book was to encourage emigration,that my name was
the only one they had ever heard of in Ingersoll until they came here.The celebrated
Spaulding, manufacturer and inventor of prepared glue, was in town a few days ago. He
expressed to a gentleman in town that he was gratified with a conversation he had with
me on poetic themes. As there is no natural affinity or adhesion binding glue to poetry,
we might say we discovered that the inventor possessed a refined and cultivated mind
and a fund of American humor.An old lady expressed herself very warmly after reading my
Canadian romance, that it was a true history of herself and husband ; that 35 years ago
they were not worth a dollar,and now they had 500 acres paid for of good land. The
reason why we alluded to this is:-Some have no faith that there is anything worthy of
commemorating in their own country, but consider worthy themes for either song or story
are three thousand miles across the Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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Over There
Im a soldier of fortune
Ive come to save the day
Theres a country thats needs me
And an enemy to slay
All my friends are in uniform
God is on our side
But Im leaving my baby back home
As we head for the ocean
Our spirits are high
To battle, to glory, what a lovely way to die!
Looking back at the shoreline
Ringing in my ears
Are the words of my baby back home
Where are you going to so far away
Your dreams of glory will soon fade away
We are so young, so much in love
Your country needs you but I need you more
So far away
Over there
Out on the frontline the story has changed
For the glory of battle is the myth on printed page
As my friends fall around me
I wonder when I die
Will they carry my body back home
What are you searching for so far away
Your dreams of glory will soon fade away
We are so young, so much in love
Im so afraid I wont see you again
Your country needs you but I need you more
So far away
Over there
So far away
Over there
Where are you going to so far away
Your dreams of glory will soon fade away
So many lives wasted away
So many die again and again
Some people say that the knights are all gone
Some people say that the dragons are dead
But the dragon lives on
As the spectre of war
And the killing and slaying goes on as before
Will it ever end
Oh ... will it ever end
Will it ever end .... ?
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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