Home, Dearie, Home

Home, Dearie, Home

Traditional - Lyrics from The Music of the Waters, by Laura Smith


Oh, Amble is a fine town, with ships in the bay,
And I wish with my heart I was only there to-day;
I wish with my heart I was far away from here,
A-sitting in my parlour, and talking to my dear.

And it's home, dearie, home! oh, it's home I want to be.
My topsails are hoisted, and I must out to sea,
For the oak, and the ash, and the bonny birchen tree,
They're all a-growin' green in the North-countree;
Oh, it's home, dearie, home! oh, it's home I want to be.


Oh, there's a wind that blows, and it's blowing from the West,
And of all the winds that blow 'tis the one I like the best;
For it blows at our backs, and it shakes the penon free,
And it soon will blow us home to the North-countree.

And it's home, dearie, home! oh, it's home I want to be.
My topsails are hoisted, and I must out to sea,
For the oak, and the ash, and the bonny birchen tree,
They're all a-growin' green in the North-countree;
Oh, it's home, dearie, home! oh, it's home I want to be.