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'Tis well I know that often folk keep wond'ring |
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When in my eyes a far off look they see, |
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What it can be the cause of all my dreaming, |
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What is this dream so very dear to me? |
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And, truth to tell, 'tis often I go roaming |
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In dreams along the road of memory, |
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To where my heart will find its consolation, |
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Within the lovely cottage by the Lee, |
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My home, sweet home that I so fondly cherish, |
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The dear ones there mean ev'rything to me; |
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In all this world, if there can be a heaven, |
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I'm sure it's in that cottage by the Lee. |
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'Tis well I stand outside that cottage doorway, |
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And gaze across the corn fields rich and gold, |
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To hear the stream go rippling by the meadow, |
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Or watch the shepherd calling to his fold. |
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From down the lane that winds behind the garden, |
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The blackbird greets the smiling summer morn, |
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And as his music echoes o'er the valley, |
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You smile and bless the day that you were born. |
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Yes, that's my dream, my lovely dream of homeland, |
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And though I thought a rover I could be, |
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It's soon I found I left my heart behind me, |
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Within that lovely cottage by the Lee. |
