O, to have a little house! 
To own the hearth and stool and all! 
The heaped up sods against the fire, 
The pile of turf against the wall! 

To have a clock with weights and chains 
And pendulum swinging up and down! 
A dresser filled with shining delph, 
Speckled and white and blue and brown! 

I could be busy all the day 
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, 
And fixing on their shelf again 
My white and blue and speckled store! 

I could be quiet there at night 
Beside the fire and by myself, 
Sure of a bed and loth to leave 
The ticking clock and the shining delph! 

Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark, 
And roads where there's never a house nor bush, 
And tired I am of bog and road, 
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush! 

And I am praying to God on high, 
And I am praying Him night and day, 
For a little house - a house of my own 
Out of the wind's and the rain's way.