Rolling home, rolling home,
Rolling home across the sea;
Rolling home to Caledonia,
Rolling home, dear land, to thee.
For ten thousand miles behind us,
And ten thousand miles before,
Ancient ocean heaves to waft us
To the well-remembered shore.
And we will join in joyous chorus
In the watches of the night,
For we’ll see the shores of Scotland
When the grey dawn brings the light.
Up aloft, amid the rigging,
Blows the loud exulting gale,
Like a bird’s wide-stretched pinions
Spreads on high each swelling sail;
And the wild waves cleft behind us,
Seem to murmur as they flow,
There are loving hearts that wait you,
In the land to which you go.