We've a bonnie wee flower
In a far countrie,
In a bright and sunny bower
In a far countrie.

When the sky is ever fair,
And the myrtle scents the air,
Of our lovely blossom's there,
In a far countrie.

There's gold to win and spare
In a far countrie,
And gems and jewels rare
In a far countrie.

But the brightest, purest gem,
From a fondly cherished stem,
Is the flow'ret we could name
In a far countrie.

May the angels watch the flower
In a far countrie,
And tent it ev'ry hour
In a far countrie.

And the night-in-gale's soft song
The spicy groves among.
Its slumbers shall prolong
In a far countrie.

We may not cross the main
To a far countrie,
Nor traverse hill and plain
To a far countrie. 

But when the primrose springs,
And the lint white sweetly sings,
O we'll welcome home our flower
From a far countrie.