Whiles, after I first began to sing often in London and the English provinces, I had a villa at Tooting--a modest place, hamely and comfortable.

But the air there was no the Scottish air; the heather wasna there for ma een to see when they opened in the morn; the smell o' the peat was no in ma nostrils.
I gae a walkin' in the city, and the walls o' the hooses press in upon me as if they would be squeezing the breath frae ma body.

The stones stick to the soles o' ma shoon and drag them doon, sae that it's an effort to lift them at every step.

And at hame, I walk five miles o'er the bonny purple heather and am no sae tired as after I've trudged the single one o'er London brick and stone.
Ye ken ma song, "I love a lassie"?
Aweel, it's sae that I think of my Scottish countryside.

London's a grand lady, in her silks and her satins, her paint and her patches.