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"It's ten weary years since I left England's shore, |
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For a distant far country to roam, |
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How I long to return to my own native land, |
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To my friends and the old folks at home. |
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Last night as I slumbered I had a strange dream, |
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A dream that brought distant lands near, |
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I dreamt of old England, the land of my birth, |
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The heart of her sons ever dear. |
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While the joyous bells rang as I wended my way, |
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To the house where I lived as a boy, |
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I passed by the window and there sat by the fire, |
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Were my parents, my heart filled with joy. |
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The log burnt so brightly it was keeping them warm, |
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On a night that could banish all sin, |
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And the bells they were ringing, the old year out, |
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And the new year in. |
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At the door of the house there we stood face to face, |
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For the first time in ten weary years, |
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Soon the past was forgot, and we stood hand in hand, |
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Father, mother and wanderer in tears. |
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And the log burnt so brightly, it was keeping us warm, |
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On a night that would banish all sin, |
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And the bells they were ringing, the old year out, |
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And the new year in. |
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And the bells they were ringing, the old year out, |
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And the new year in. |
