A Poem Found in the Family Files - Torbolton by the river

TORBOLTON BY THE RIVER
By: Edwin Weir

I am weary of this western life,
The hurry din and bustle.
I'm weary of the threshing gangs,
The crods that shout and hustle.
Oh I'm longing to be home again
Where times are really better,
In Carleton's fairest township
Torbolton by the river.

I'd like to see the folks again,
And hear the children chatter,
And the youngest child would cry,
Say to it what's the matter?
The old time chores from house to barn
Even when I used to shiver
In the cold and dreary days
Torbolton by the river.

I'm thinking of the folks those times
Of Christmas and New Years.
I wonder if they think of me
Where they say the country's freer.
But I tell you folks I'd like again
To see those faces clever
And mingle with those girls and boys
In Torbolton by the river.

I'd like to hear old Collie bark,
to hear the cats meowing
And take my Father's big grey team
Across the hills to plowing,
I'd like to drive to Kinburn, Galetta and the Harbor
Where folks are always well received
From Torbolton by the river.

It's there we have those splendid folks
That make a country better,
The Buckhams and the Griersons
And the Amritages clever,
The Gordons, Grays and Weatherdons
Whose kindness faileth never,
The Andersons, Bairds and Pritchards,
In Torbolton by the river.

The Saunders' men and Ritchie's all,
The Drummonds wise and seere,
The Bressinhams and Porteous',
The Gibsons and the Weirs,
The Robinson's Orange and Green,
Coughlins and Smiths as ever,
Besides those Sparklinfi Waters folks
In Torbolton by the river.

MacLarens men and Major men,
The Browns folk and the Blewetts,
The Wilsons and the Dolans too,
The Nesbitts and McQuatts,
The Penneys, Bairds and Headleys all
Whose Principals don't quiver
But hold the faith their fathers held
In Torbolton by the river.

My Highland friends good luck to them,
At New Year's time here's tae ye,
And all of Direlton Corners folks
and Kilmaurs Scribe that hae ye.
I'm always reading up your notes
In Carps delightful paper,
In which I get all news from home
Torbolton by the river.

I often think of Greenland
And Purgatory too,
You know I have been through both of them
They cleansed me through and through.
I worked my way across them both
In times long past forever,
Hard times that cannot come again
In Torbolton by the river.

I'd like to go to English Church
Down by the quiet corner,
And then drive up to Scotland Kirk
And sing a praise book number.
Out here they're daft on Torrey's hymns
That are not worth a silver.
I'd rather sing the golden Psalms
In Torbolton by the river.

I'm going back down there some day
For the girl I left behind me,
There is no girl like her on earth,
But just let me remind you
That when I die and soar on high
To dwell in heaven forever,
Oh lay my body down to rest
In Torbolton by the river.

And when the righteous dead shall rise
I hope to meet you yonder.
Where by the Jordans banks we'll rest
And on God's mercy ponder,
and sing his praises evermore,
And never shall we sever,
Glad that we learned the way of life
In Torbolton by the river.

Edwin Weir was the son of Thomas Henry Weir and Mary Vance & brother of Noble Tait Weir (Ken Thompson's grandfather),
There were 8 brothers James Henry, Noble, Robert, Frank, Wallace, Edwin, Shearer & Irwin & 2 sisters Elizabeth & Helena