PILLOW OF REPOSE ©

Oh, where is my pillow of favourite dreams,
among the green pines and Colorado streams?
Far away from the Cumbeland braes,
where in my dreams my heart still plays.

I cannot change what once was done,
though childhood dreams still linger on.
But sometimes when the night is still,
I think fondly of Colinton Dell.

South of Auld Reekie wi' it's castle and spire,
sound o' the pipes drifting o'er the byre.
Watter frae Leith at the foot o' the brae,
ah'l walk tae Slateford, wha'l say me nay?

Doon the steps and across the bridge,
noonday sun peeks ower the ridge.
But pause and to listen to the lark on high,
then on ti Slateford wi' a sigh.

Past the Kirk and through the wood,
and bairns listen and it's aye understood.
Sweeties in the Kirk yard is neglect,
and tae eat them there shows disrespect.

The Kirk that has stood a thousand years,
bears witness to the smiles and tears,
the epitome of will and Scottish pride,
here another thousand years tae bide.