AM I A SCOT, OR AM I NOT?

If I should bring a wagon o'er From Scotland to Columbia's shore, And by successive wear and tear The wagon soon should need repair: Thus, when the tires are worn through, Columbia's iron doth renew; Likewise the fellies, hubs, and spokes Should be replaced by Western oaks; In course of time down goes the bed, But here's one like it in its stead. So bit by bit, in seven years, All things are changed in bed and gears, And still it seems as though it ought To be the one from Scotland brought; But when I think the matter o'er, It ne'er was on a foreign shore, And all that came across the sea Is only its identity. I came, a Scotchman, understand, By choice, to live in this free land, Wherein I've dwelt, from day to day, 'Till sixteen years have passed away. If physiology be true, My body has been changing too; And though at first it did seem strange, Yet science doth confirm the change; And since I have the truth been taught, I wonder If I'm now a Scot? Since all that came across the sea Is only my identity.