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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #69484 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69484)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bonnie Joann, by Violet Jacob
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Bonnie Joann
-       and other poems
-
-Author: Violet Jacob
-
-Release Date: December 6, 2022 [eBook #69484]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Sonya Schermann and the Online Distributed Proofreading
-             Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
-             images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BONNIE JOANN ***
-
-
-
-
-
-BONNIE JOANN
-
-
-
-
-_BY VIOLET JACOB_
-
-SONGS _of_ ANGUS
-
-FIFTH IMPRESSION
-
-
-“The dialect is Angus, and in every song there is the sound of the east
-wind and the rain.... She has many moods, from the stalwart humour of
-‘The Beadle o’ Drumlee’ and ‘Jeemsie Miller’ to the haunting lilt of
-‘The Gean-Trees’ and the pathos of ‘Craigo Woods’ and ‘The Lang Road,’
-but in them all are the same clarity of vision and clear beauty of
-phrase.”
-
-  _From_ MR. JOHN BUCHAN’S _Preface_.
-
-
-LONDON: JOHN MURRAY
-
-
-
-
-  BONNIE JOANN
-
-  AND OTHER POEMS
-
-  BY VIOLET JACOB
-
-  LONDON
-
-  JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
-  1921
-
-
-
-
-ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
-
-
-
-
-  TO MY NEPHEW
-
-  WILLIAM KENNEDY-ERSKINE
-
-  MOST UNDERSTANDING OF READERS
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-           PAGE
-
-  BONNIE JOANN        1
-
-  THE WIND FRAE THE BALTIC       3
-
-  THE TRAMP TO THE TATTIE-DULIE       5
-
-  HALLOWE’EN       8
-
-  ADAM           10
-
-  THE DAFT BIRD          13
-
-  PRIDE        15
-
-  ‘KIRRIE’        17
-
-  THE END O’T       20
-
-  THE KELPIE       22
-
-  BALTIC STREET      25
-
-  BAILIE BRUCE       28
-
-  CHARLEWAYN       31
-
-  THE MUCKLE MOU’      34
-
-  THE GANGEREL      36
-
-  THE TINKLER’S BALOO         38
-
-  THE BANKS O’ THE ESK        40
-
-  THE WISE-LIKE CHAP      41
-
-  INVERQUHARITY         43
-
-  FAUR-YE-WEEL        46
-
-
-  IN ENGLISH
-
-  A YOUNG MAN’S SONG        50
-
-  THE SHADOWS       51
-
-  A WINTER PHANTASY        52
-
-  MARSEY TOWN        54
-
-  THE SEASONS        55
-
-
-All these poems, with the exception of the last two in the book, have
-appeared in _Country Life_, and I have to thank the editor for his
-courteous permission to reproduce them.
-
-  V. J.
-
-
-
-
-BONNIE JOANN
-
-_AND OTHER POEMS_
-
-
-
-
-BONNIE JOANN
-
-
-  We’ve stookit the hairst an’ we’re needin’
-    To gaither it in,
-  Syne, gin the morn’s dry, we’ll be leadin’
-    An’ wark’ll begin;
-  But noo I’ll awa doon the braeside
-    My lane, while I can--
-  Wha kens wha he’ll meet by the wayside,
-    My bonnie Joann?
-
-  East yonder, the hairst-fields are hidin’
-    The sea frae my een,
-  Gin ye keek whaur the stocks are dividin’
-    Ye’ll see it atween.
-  Sae douce an’ sae still it has sleepit
-    Since hairst-time began
-  Like my he’rt--gin ye’d tak’ it an’ keep it
-    My bonnie Joann.
-
-  Owre a’thing the shadows gang trailin’,
-    Owre stubble an’ strae;
-  Frae the hedge to the fit o’ the pailin’
-    They rax owre the way;
-  But the sun may gang through wi’ his beamin’
-    An’ traivel his span,
-  For aye, by the licht o’ my dreamin’,
-    I see ye, Joann.
-
-  Awa frae ye, naebody’s braver,
-    Mair wise-like an’ bauld,
-  Aside ye, I hech an’ I haver,
-    I’m het an’ I’m cauld;
-  But oh! could I tell wi’out speakin’
-    The he’rt o’ a man,
-  Ye micht find I’m the lad that ye’re seekin’,
-    My bonnie Joann!
-
-
-
-
-THE WIND FRAE THE BALTIC
-
-
-  Below the wa’s, oot-by Montrose,
-    The tides ca’ up an’ doon
-  And mony’s the gallant mairchantman
-    Lies in aside the toon;
-  Oh, it’s fine alang the tideway
-    The loupin’ waters rin
-  When the wind is frae the Baltic wi’ the brigs comin’ in.
-
-  I’d gie the ring upon my hand
-    To hide me frae the sea
-  That manes by nicht an’ cries by day
-    The dule that’s come to me,
-  For I’ll hear nae mair the fit-fa’
-    When hame the brigs may win
-  O’ a man that sailed the Baltic, nor his step comin’ in.
-
-  And noo the toon is fair asteer,
-    The weans rin doon the street,
-  And I may turn my face aboot
-    An’ get me hame to greet,
-  There’s sic a joy wi’ a’ fowk
-    My tears wad be a sin,
-  For the wind is frae the Baltic--an’ the brigs comin’ in.
-
-
-
-
-THE TRAMP TO THE TATTIE-DULIE
-
-
-  Thrawn-leggit carle wi’ airms on hie
-  And jist a hole for ilka ee,
-  Ye needna lift yer hand to me
-        As though ye’d strike me;
-  Ye’re threits abune an’ strae below,
-  But what-like use is sic a show?
-  Ye maun respec’ me, bogle, tho’
-        Ye mauna like me!
-
-  To gutsy doo or thievin’ craw
-  Ye mebbe represent the law
-  When they come fleein’ owre the wa’
-        To tak’ an airin’,
-  Dod, I’ll no say they arena richt
-  When sic a fell, unchancy sicht
-  Gars them think twice afore they licht--
-        But _I’m_ no carin’!
-
-  Yer heid’s a neep,[1] yer wame’s[2] a sack,
-  Yer ill-faured face gars bairnies shak’,
-  But yet the likes o’ you can mak’
-        A livin’ frae it;
-  Sma’ use to me! It isna fair
-  For though there’s mony wad declare
-  That I’m no far ahint ye there,
-        _I_ canna dae it!
-
-  Life’s a disgust wi’ a’ its ways,
-  For free o’ chairge ye get yer claes,
-  Nae luck hae I on washin’-days--
-        There’s plenty dryin’,
-  But gin I see a usefu’ sark
-  An’ bide or gloamin’ help my wark,
-  The guidwife’s oot afore it’s dark--
-        And leaves nane lyin’.
-
-  Weel, weel, I’m aff. It’s little pleasure
-  To see ye standin’ at yer leisure
-  When I’ve sae mony miles to measure
-        To get a meal!
-  Ye idle dog! My bonnet’s through,
-  An’ yours is no exac’ly new,
-  But a’ the same I’ll hae’t frae you,
-        And faur-ye-weel!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[1] Turnip.
-
-[2] Belly.
-
-
-
-
-HALLOWE’EN
-
-
-  The tattie-liftin’s nearly through,
-  They’re ploughin’ whaur the barley grew,
-      And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,
-      Ye’ll see the horsemen stand an’ crack
-  O Lachlan, but I mind o’ you!
-
-  I mind foo often we hae seen
-  Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween
-      The nakit branches, an’ below
-      Baith fairm an’ bothie hae their show,
-  Alowe wi’ lichts o’ Hallowe’en.
-
-  There’s bairns wi’ guizards[3] at their tail
-  Clourin’ the doors wi’ runts[4] o’ kail,
-      And fine ye’ll hear the skreichs an’ skirls
-      O’ lassies wi’ their droukit curls
-  Bobbin’ for aipples i’ the pail.
-
-  The bothie fire is loupin’ het,
-  A new heid horseman’s kist is set
-      Richts o’ the lum; whaur by the blaze
-      The auld ane stude that kept yer claes--
-  I canna thole to see it yet!
-
-  But gin the auld fowks’ tales are richt
-  An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
-      O freend o’ freends! what wad I gie
-      To feel ye rax yer hand to me
-  Atween the dark an’ caun’le licht?
-
-  Awa in France, across the wave,
-  The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,
-      An’ you an’ me their lowe hae seen--
-      Ye’ll mebbe hae yer Hallowe’en
-  Yont, whaur ye’re lyin’ wi’ the lave.
-
-  There’s drink an’ daffin’, sang an’ dance
-  And ploys and kisses get their chance,
-      But Lachlan, man, the place I see
-      Is whaur the auld kist used to be
-  And the lichts o’ Hallowe’en in France!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[3] Mummers who go from door to door.
-
-[4] Cabbage-stalks.
-
-
-
-
-ADAM
-
-
-    Ye’re richt weel buskit, yer poke is fu’,
-          Ye ride i’ yer ain machine;
-    ’Twould tak a fule to hae words wi’ you
-          An’ no ken the gowk he’s been.
-
-    At rowp or preachin’ the best ye’ll hae,
-        This warld or the neist ane’s gear,
-    The breist[5] o’ the laft on a Sawbath day,
-        Or a seat by the auctioneer.
-
-    Ye’re no jist auld an’ ye arena young,
-        But it doesna affec’ the case,
-    For I’m aye that fear’d o’ a wumman’s tongue
-        That I’m like to forget her face.
-
-    An’ fowk says “Donal’, ye’re forty past,
-        I doot she’ll be fifty-three,
-    But ye maun settle yersel’ at last
-        That hasna a spare bawbee.
-
-    Oh, youth’s a ploy, but it winna bide
-        And a body’s gettin’ on--
-    What ails ye, man, at a thrifty bride
-        Wi’ a dandy bit hoose like yon?”
-
-    Them’s wise-like bodies I hae to thank
-        And mebbe they’re no far wrang;
-    But whiles ye’ll step frae a creakin’ plank
-        An’ doon i’ the glaur[6] ye’ll gang!
-
-    It’s warm, thae nichts, i’ the auld King’s Heid;
-        What better can ye desire
-    Than a lass to bring ye the dram ye need
-        An’ yer billies aroond the fire?
-
-    An’ wha is’t redes me to tak’ a wife?
-        A puckle o’ single men!
-    No ane, I’m thinkin’, wad risk his life
-        Wi’ a jaud that he disna ken!
-
-    I’ll wish ye luck an’ a braw guidman,
-        And weel may ye baith agree,
-    But I’m no seekin’ ye, Maggie-Ann,
-        And I doot that he’ll no be me!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[5] The front seat in the gallery.
-
-[6] Mud.
-
-
-
-
-THE DAFT BIRD
-
-
-  When day is past an’ peace comes doon wi’ gloamin’
-      An’ twa by twa the young fowk pass the yett,
-  Auld stocks like me maun let their thochts content them,
-      Mindin’ o’ coortin’s that they’ll no forget.
-  Ye’re no sae far awa the nicht, my Marget,
-      Tho’ on the brae-heid, past the dyke ye lie,
-  Whaur ae daft bird is singin’ i’ the kirkyaird
-      And ae star watches i’ the evenin’ sky.
-
-  Late bird, daft bird, the likes o’ you are bedded,
-      The daylicht’s deid, it’s hame that ye should be,
-  Yer voice is naucht to them that canna hear ye;
-      But sing you on, it isna naucht to me.
-  Dod, like yersel’, it’s time that I was sleepin’,
-      Sae lang it is since Marget laid her doon,
-  And ilka year treids up ahint anither
-      Like evenin’s ghaist ahint the aifternoon.
-
-  For rest comes slaw to you an’ me, I’m thinkin’,
-      Oor day’s wark’s surely lang o’ wearin’ through,
-  The gloamin’s had been wearier an’ langer,
-      Thae nichts o’ June, late warker, wantin’ you.
-  I maun hae patience yet, I’ll no be grievin’,
-      There’s them that disna fail tho’ day be spent,
-  An’ yon daft bird’s aye singing i’ the kirkyaird--
-      Lord, I will bide my time, an’ bide content.
-
-
-
-
-PRIDE
-
-
-  Did iver ye see the like o’ that?
-  The warld’s fair fashioned to winder at!
-  Heuch--dinna tell me! Yon’s Fishie Pete
-  That cried the haddies in Ferry Street
-  Set up wi’ his coats an’ his grand cigars
-  In ane o’ they stinkin’ motor-cars!
-
-  I mind the time (an’ it’s no far past)
-  When he wasna for fleein’ alang sae fast
-  An’ doon i’ the causey his cairt wad stand
-  As he roared oot “Haddies!” below his hand;
-  Ye’d up wi’ yer windy an’ doon he’d loup
-  Frae the shaft o’ the cairt by the sheltie’s doup[7].
-
-  Aye, muckle cheenges an’ little sense,
-  A bawbee’s wut an’ a poond’s pretence!
-  For there’s him noo wi’ his neb to the sky
-  I’ yon deil’s machinery swiggit[8] by,
-  An’ me, that whiles gi’ed him a piece to eat,
-  Tramps aye to the kirk on my ain twa feet.
-
-  And, nee’bours, mind ye, the warld’s a-gley
-  Or we couldna see what we’ve seen the day,
-  Guid fortune’s blate whaur she’s weel desairv’t
-  The sinner fu’ an’ the godly stairv’t,
-  An’ fowk like me an’ my auld guidman
-  Jist wearied, daein’ the best we can!
-
-  I’ve kept my lips an’ my tongue frae guile
-  An’ kept mysel’ to mysel’ the while;
-  Agin a’ wastrels I’ve aye been set
-  And I’m no for seekin’ to thole them yet;
-  A grand example I’ve been through life,
-  A righteous liver, a thrifty wife.
-
-  But oh! the he’rt o’ a body bleeds
-  For favours sclarried[9] on sinfu’ heids.
-  Wait you a whilie! Ye needna think
-  They’ll no gang frae him wi’ cairds an’ drink!
-  They’ll bring nae blessin’, they winna bide,
-  For the warst sin, nee’bours, is pride, aye, pride!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[7] Croup.
-
-[8] Swung, whirled.
-
-[9] Spilt.
-
-
-
-
-‘KIRRIE’
-
-
-  Comin’ oot frae Kirrie, when the autumn gowd an’ siller
-      At the hindmaist o’ September month has grips o’ tree an’ shaw,
-  The mune hung, deaved wi’ sunset, no a spunk o’ pride in till her,
-      Nae better nor a bogle, till the licht was awa;
-  An’ the haughs below the Grampains, i’ the evenin’ they were lyin’
-      Like a lang-socht Land o’ Promise that the cauld mist couldna
-        smoor;
-  An’ tho’ ye didna see it, ye could hear the river cryin’
-      If ye stood a while to listen on the road to Kirriemuir.
-
-  There’s an auld wife bides in Kirrie--set her up! a pridefu’ crater--
-      And she’s crackin’ aye o’ London an’ the grand fowk ye may see;
-  O’ the King, an’ syne his palace, till I’m sure I’m like to hate her,
-      For the mairket-day in Kirrie is the sicht for me.
-  But ye ken I’m sweir to fash her, an’ it’s best to be agreein’,
-      For gin ye dinna heed her, then she’s cankered-like an’ soor,
-  Dod, she tells o’ muckle lairnin’--but I doot the bizzar’s[10] leein’,
-      For it’s fules wad bide in London when they kent o’ Kirriemuir.
-
-  O, the braw, braw toon o’ Kirrie! What a years that I hae lo’ed it!
-      And I winna seek to leave it tho’ I’m spared anither score;
-  I’d be greetin’ like a laddie for the auld reid hooses croodit
-      Lookin’ down upon the steadin’s and the fields o’ Strathmore.
-  Ye may speak o’ heavenly mansions, ye may say it wadna grieve ye
-      When ye quit a world sae bonnie--but I canna jist be sure,
-  For I’ll hae to wait, I’m thinkin’, or I see if I believe ye,
-      For my first braid blink o’ Heaven, an’ my last o’ Kirriemuir!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[10] Jade.
-
-
-
-
-THE END O’T
-
-
-  There’s a fine braw thistle that lifts its croon
-      By the river-bank whaur the ashes stand,
-  An’ the swirl o’ water comes whisp’rin’ doon
-      Past birk an’ bramble an’ grazin’ land.
-  But simmer’s flittit an’ time’s no heedin’
-      A feckless lass nor a pridefu’ flow’r;
-  The dark to hide me’s the grace I’m needin’,
-            An’ the thistle’s seedin’
-              An’ my day’s owre.
-
-  I redd the hoose an’ I meat the hens
-      (Oh, it’s ill to wark when ye daurna tire!)
-  An’ what’ll I get when my mither kens
-      It’s niver a maiden that biggs her fire?
-  I mind my pray’rs, but I’m feared to say them,
-      I hide my een, for they’re greetin’ fast,
-  What though I blind them--for wha wad hae them?
-            The licht’s ga’en frae them
-              An’ my day’s past.
-
-  Oh, wha tak’s tent for a fadin’ cheek?
-      No him, I’se warrant, that gar’d it fade!
-  There’s little love for a lass to seek
-      When the coortin’s through an’ the price is paid.
-  Oh, aince forgotten’s forgotten fairly,
-      An’ heavy endit what’s licht begun,
-  But God forgie ye an’ keep ye, Chairlie,
-            For the nicht’s fa’en airly
-              An’ my day’s done!
-
-
-
-
-THE KELPIE
-
-
-  I’m feared o’ the road ayont the glen,
-      I’m sweir to pass the place
-  Whaur the water’s rinnin’, for a’ fowk ken
-  There’s a kelpie sits at the fit o’ the den,
-      And there’s them that’s seen his face.
-
-  But whiles he watches an’ whiles he hides
-      And whiles, gin na wind manes,
-  Ye can hear him roarin’ frae whaur he bides
-  An’ the soond o’ him splashin’ agin the sides
-      O’ the rocks an’ the muckle stanes.
-
-  When the mune gaes doon at the arn-tree’s back
-      In a wee, wee weary licht,
-  My bed-claes up to my lugs I tak’,
-  For I mind the swirl o’ the water black
-      An’ the cry i’ the fearsome nicht.
-
-  And lang an’ fell is yon road to me
-      As I come frae the schule;
-  I duarna think what I’m like to see
-  When dark fa’s airly on buss an’ tree
-      At Martinmas and Yule.
-
-  Aside the crusie[11] my mither reads,
-      “My bairn,” says she, “ye’ve heard
-  The Lord is mindfu’ o’ a’ oor needs
-  An’ His shield an’ buckler’s abune the heids
-      O’ them that keeps His word.”
-
-  But I’m a laddie that’s no that douce,
-      An’ fechtin’s a bonnie game;
-  The dominie’s pawmies[12] are little use,
-  An’ mony’s the Sawbath I’m rinnin’ loose
-      When a’body thinks I’m hame!
-
-  Dod, noo we’re nearin’ the shorter days,
-      It’s cannie I’ll hae to gang,
-  An’ keep frae fechtin’ an’ sic-like ways,
-  And no be tearin’ my Sawbath claes
-      Afore that the nichts grow lang.
-
-  Richt guid an’ couthie I’ll need to be,
-      (But it’s leein’ to say I’m glad),
-  I ken there’s troubles that fowk maun dree,
-  An’ the kelpie’s no like to shift for me,
-  Sae, gin thae warlocks are fear’d o’ Thee,
-      Lord, mak’ me a better lad!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[11] Iron oil-lamp.
-
-[12] Canings.
-
-
-
-
-BALTIC STREET
-
-
-    My dainty lass, lay you the blame
-        Upon the richtfu’ heid;
-    ’Twas daft ill-luck that bigg’d yer hame
-        The wrang side o’ the Tweed.
-    Ye hae yer tocher a’ complete,
-        Ye’re bonnie as the rose,
-    But I was born in Baltic Street,
-        In Baltic Street, Montrose!
-
-    Lang syne on mony a waefu’ nicht,
-        Hie owre the sea’s distress,
-    I’ve seen the great airms o’ the licht
-        Swing oot frae Scurdyness;
-    An’ prood, in sunny simmer blinks,
-        When land-winds rase an’ fell,
-    I’d flee my draigon[13] on the links
-        Wi’ callants like mysel’.
-
-    Oh, Baltic Street is cauld an’ bare
-        An’ mebbe nae sae grand,
-    But ye’ll feel the smell i’ the caller air
-        O’ kippers on the land.
-    ’Twixt kirk an’ street the deid fowk bide
-        Their feet towards the sea,
-    Ill nee’bours for a new-made bride,
-        Gin ye come hame wi’ me.
-
-    The steeple shades the kirkyaird grass,
-        The seamen’s hidden banes,
-    A dour-like kirk to an English lass
-        Wha kens but English lanes;
-    And when the haar, the winter through,
-        Creeps blind on close and wa’
-    My hame micht get a curse frae you,
-        Mysel’ get, mebbe, twa.
-
-    I’ll up an’ aff the morn’s morn
-        To seek some reid-haired queyn,
-    Bauld-he’rted, strang-nieved,[14] bred an’ born
-        In this auld toon o’ mine.
-    And oh! for mair I winna greet,
-        Gin we hae meal an’ brose
-    And a but an’ ben in Baltic Street,
-        In Baltic Street, Montrose!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[13] Fly my kite.
-
-[14] Strong-fisted.
-
-
-
-
-BAILIE BRUCE
-
-
-  Ye’d winder, when creation’s plan
-  Seems sae acceptable to man,
-  And the Creator, in His power,
-  Made brute an’ bird, an’ fruit an’ flower;
-  When e’en the wasps that bigg their bike
-  An’ clocks[15] an’ golachs, an’ the like
-  O’ a’ yon vairmin has their use,
-  What gar’d Him fashion Bailie Bruce?
-
-  He couldna thole to see a wean
-  Wheepin’ his pearie[16] on the green,
-  Nae sweethe’rts coorted but he saw
-  Auld Homie’s tail ahint the twa.
-  In godly wrath he aye wad show
-  His hate o’ sinfu’ men; but tho’
-  The wicked fled afore his face
-  The guid aye passed them i’ the race.
-
-  Oot frae the foremaist seat at kirk
-  He roared the psalms like ony stirk,
-  For gripp’d was he by sic a zeal
-  As nane but the elect micht feel;
-  An’ when the kirk-door plate was set,
-  Wi’ looks o’ pride ye’d ne’er forget,
-  When puir fowk laid their pennies doon
-  He’d gi’e his Maker half a croon.
-
-  Weel, whiles oor ancient customs change
-  An’ fowk accep’ what’s new an’ strange;
-  Oor decent plate awa was laid
-  For bonny baggies--English made.
-  Sawbath cam’ roond; the kirk was in;
-  The Bailie sat an’ glow’red on sin;
-  The Elder brocht wi’ reverent feet
-  His baggie to the foremaist seat.
-
-  In drapp’d the money; Bailie Bruce
-  Wi’ open hand an’ purse-strings loose
-  And e’en upliftit, kept his place;
-  The bag passed on its road o’ grace.
-  Weel was’t he couldna see the smile
-  That a’ yon kirk-fu’ had the while
-  Nor yet the Elder’s twisted mou’
-  That wrocht him a’ the journey through!
-
-  For oh! ahint the Bailie’s back
-  Was done a deed o’ shame to mak’
-  His righteous he’rt wi’ anger swell
-  _Nane gie’d a bodle but himsel’!_
-  An’ at the coontin’, plain to see,
-  The baggie held but ae bawbee!
-
-         *       *       *       *       *
-
-  His health noo gars him keep the hoose;
-  Losh-aye! what ails him, Bailie Bruce?
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[15] Beetles.
-
-[16] Whipping-top.
-
-
-
-
-CHARLEWAYN[17]
-
-  (_Yestere’n was Hallowe’en,
-        To-day is Hallow-day,
-  It’s nine free nichts to Martinmas,
-        And then we’ll get away._
-
-  OLD SONG AMONG ANGUS FARM SERVANTS.)
-
-
-    Frae Hallowe’en to Martinmas
-        There’s little time to fill,
-    And yet there’s mony a warkin’ lass
-        Thinks a’ the days stand still.
-
-    Oh, cauld the mornin’ creeps on nicht
-        Alang the eerie skies,
-    An’ cauld the blink o’ caun’le-licht
-        That lets me see to rise.
-
-    For late an’ airly at the fairm
-        The wark seems niver past,
-    But a week, come Monday, brings the tairm
-        When I may flit at last.
-
-    My mither hauds her docters ticht,
-        My mither’s hoose is sma’,
-    An’ I niver lo’ed my mither richt
-        Until I gaed awa.
-
-    But yestere’en was Hallowe’en
-        When a’ may dance an’ sing;
-    The auld guidwife shut doon her e’en,
-        The young anes got their fling;
-
-    Set up, the fiddler wrocht. Below,
-        The reel swang ilka ane,
-    But my feet danced oot to meet my joe
-        By the licht o’ Charlewayn.
-
-    My mither’s hame’s a happy hame
-        Whaur easy I may lie,
-    And o’ mysel’ I’m thinkin’ shame,
-        Sic a feckless queyn am I.
-
-    For, by the licht o’ Charlewayn,
-        It’s Rab that gar’d me lairn
-    To see a lover’s lass mair plain
-        E’en than a mither’s bairn.
-
-    Aye, yestere’en was Hallowe’en,
-        An’ Martinmas is near;
-    It’s wae for Martinmas I’ve been
-        But it’s like to find me here!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[17] Charles’ Wain, the Plough.
-
-
-
-
-THE MUCKLE MOU’
-
-
-    When ye are auld an’ pitten past,
-        Ye’ll whiles be sittin’ wi’ a freen’
-    And crackin’, as ye hear the blast
-        Rage i’ the lum, o’ fowk ye’ve seen.
-    There’s some gangs whingein’,[18] singin’ sma’,
-        An’ some that taks a baulder tune,
-    But ae thing’s aye the same wi’ a’--
-        Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.
-
-    Ye’ll see a lad--his hoose the best,
-        A thrivin’ swine in till his yaird,
-    His gairden fu’--he winna rest,
-        He’s wud because he’s no a laird!
-    He coorts a lass; she’ll tak’ her aith
-        He isna fit to dicht her shune,
-    What’s wrang wi’ ane is wrang wi’ baith--
-        Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.
-
-    O’ tinkler-fowk, an’ fowk wi’ means
-        Ye’ll scarcely hae the time to speak,
-    Men, wives an’ widdies, lords an’ weans,
-        The mair they get, the mair they’ll seek.
-    Ye’d think the vera warld was deav’d
-        Wi’ them that’s roarin’ for the mune,
-    Nae maitter what they’ve a’ receiv’d
-        Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.
-
-    But when ye’ve lookit mony a year
-        Upon yersel’ and ither men,
-    Although to lairn ye’ve whiles been sweir,
-        There’s twa-three things ye’re like to ken;
-    Ye winna need to mak’ ado
-        An’ warstle wi’ the powers abune,
-    Yer spune’s the measure o’ yer mou’,
-        Gin ane is wrang, it’s no the spune!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[18] Whining.
-
-
-
-
-THE GANGEREL
-
-
-    It’s ye maun whustle for a breeze
-        Until the sails be fu’;
-    They bigg yon ships that ride the seas
-        To pleasure fowk like you.
-
-    For ye hae siller i’ yer hand
-        And a’ that gowd can buy,
-    But weary, in a weary land,
-        A gangerel-loon am I.
-
-    Ye’ll feel the strang tides lift an’ toss
-        The scud o’ nor’land faem,
-    And when ye drap the Southern Cross
-        It’s a’ roads lead ye hame.
-
-    And ye shall see the shaws o’ broom
-        Wave on the windy hill,
-    Alang the strath the hairst-fields toom[19]
-        And syne the stackyairds fill.
-
-    Ye’ll hear fu’ mony a raittlin’ cairt
-        On Forfar’s causey-croon,[20]
-    Wi’ young stirks loupin’ to the Mairt
-        That roars in Forfar toon.
-
-    O’ nichts, ayont yer snibbet door,
-        Ye’ll see in changeless band,
-    Abune Craig Oule, to keep Strathmore,
-        The stars of Scotland stand.
-
-    But tho’ ye think ye sicht them fine
-        Gang ben an’ tak’ yer rest,
-    Frae lands that niver kent their shine
-        It’s me that sees them best!
-
-    For they shall brak’ their ancient trust,
-        Shall rise nae mair nor set,
-    The Sidlaw hills be laid in dust
-        Afore that I forget.
-
-    Lowse ye the windy-sneck a wheen,
-        An’ glowre frae ilka airt
-    Fegs! Ye may see them wi’ yer een--
-        _I_ see them wi’ my he’rt!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[19] Empty.
-
-[20] The middle of the street.
-
-
-
-
-THE TINKLER’S BALOO
-
-
-  Haud yer whisht, my mannie,
-      Hide yer heid the noo,
-  There’s a jimp young mune i’ the branches abune
-      An’ she’s keekin’ at me an’ you.
-  Near she is to settin’,
-      Waukin’ she shouldna be,
-  An’ mebbe she sees i’ the loan by the trees
-      Owre muckle for you an’ me.
-
-  Dinna cry on Daddie,
-      Daddie’s by the fairm,
-  There’s a specklie hen that strays i’ the den
-      An’ he’s fear’d she may come to hairm.
-  Thieves is bauld an’ mony,
-      That’s what guid fowk say,
-  An’ they’d a’ complain gin the limmer was ta’en
-      An’ cheughit afore it’s day.
-
-  Sleep, an’ then, come Sawbath,
-      A feather o’ gray ye’ll get
-  Wi’ specklies on it to set i’ yer bonnet
-      An’ gar ye look brawer yet.
-  Sae hide yer heid, my mannie,
-      Haud yer whisht, my doo,
-  For we’ll hae to shift or the sun’s i’ the lift
-      An’ I’m singin’ baloo, baloo!
-
-
-
-
-THE BANKS O’ THE ESK
-
-
-  Gin I were whaur the rowans hang
-      Their berried heids aside the river,
-  I’d hear the water slip alang,
-      The rowan-leaves abune me shiver;
-  And winds frae Angus braes wad sail
-  To blaw me dreams owre peat an’ gale.
-
-  An’ blawn frae youth, thae dreams o’ mine
-      Wad find me, tho’ the rowans hide me,
-  Like hoolets gray they’d flit, an’ syne
-      They’d fauld their wings an’ licht aside me;
-  And aye the mair content I’d be
-  The closer that they cam’ to me.
-
-  Aside the Esk I’d lay me doon,
-      Atween the rowans and its windin’,
-  An’ tho’ the waters rase to droon
-      A weary carle, I’d no be mindin’;
-  For I wad sleep, my rovin’ past,
-  Upon thae banks o’ dreams at last.
-
-
-
-
-THE WISE-LIKE CHAP
-
-
-  Aye, billies, I’m a wise-like chap,
-      I dinna smoke nor drink,
-  And gin I gi’e my poke a slap
-      Ye’ll hear the siller chink.
-  My feyther has an aicht-pair[21] fairm
-      Weel set wi’ byre an’ stack;
-  There’s mony will obey me
-  An’ tak’ their pattern frae me,
-  But Annie winna hae me
-      An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!
-
-  My Grannie’s saved a bit hersel’,
-    She’s three-score year an’ ten,
-  Wha’ll get the profit nane can tell
-    (An’ yet I think I ken!)
-  It’s fules wad cross a rich auld wife,
-      Sae a’ her fleers[22] I tak’,
-  An’ tho’ it’s like to pay me,
-  Richt little guid ’twill dae me,
-  For Annie winna hae me
-      An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!
-
-  Ye’ll mebbe mind the miller’s loon
-      That was a fair disgrace;
-  His auld dune hat was clour’d abune
-      An’ mill-dust on his face.
-  The gowk! He gaed awa to fecht
-      And syne cam’ crippl’t back;
-  Yestre’en he passed my Grannie
-  Wi’ his left airm bandig’t cannie--
-  But his richt ane happit Annie,
-      An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[21] The size of Angus farms is expressed by the number of horses
-required to work them.
-
-[22] Jibes.
-
-
-
-
-INVERQUHARITY
-
-
-  Aside the Quharity burn
-      I ken na what I’m seein’
-      Wi’ the licht near deein’
-  An’ the lang year at the turn;
-      But the dog that gangs wi’ me
-      Creeps whingein’ at my knee,
-  And we baith haud thegither
-  Like a lad an’ his brither
-      At the water o’ Quharity.
-
-  Alang the Quharity glen
-      I mind on warlock’s faces,
-      I’ the still, dark places
-  Whaur the trees hae airms like men;
-      And I ken the beast can see
-      Yon een that’s watchin’ me,
-  Whaur the arn-boughs darken
-  An’ I’m owre fear’d to harken
-      I’ the glen o’ Quharity.
-
-  By Quharity Castle wa’s
-      The toor is like a prison,
-      Or a deid man risen
-  Amang the birken shaws;
-  And the sweit upon my bree
-  Is drappin’ cauld frae me
-      Till the ill spell’s broken
-      By the Haly Word spoken
-  At the wa’s o’ Quharity.
-
-  Alang the Valley o’ Deith
-      There’ll be mony a warlock wait’n
-      Wi’ the thrangin’ hosts o’ Sat’n
-  Till I tak’ my hin’maist breith;
-      An’ I’m fear’d there winna be
-      The dog to gang wi’ me
-  An’ I doot the way is wearier
-  An’ the movin’ shadows eerier
-      Than the jaws o’ Quharity.
-
-  But I’ll whisper the Haly Name
-      For thae list’nin’ lugs to hear me,
-      An’ the herds o’ Hell’ll fear me
-  An’ tak’ the road they came;
-      For the wild dark wings’ll flee
-      Frae their bield in branch an’ tree--
-  Nae mair the black airms thrawin’!
-  Nae mair the ill sough blawin’!
-  For my day o’ days is dawin’
-      Owre the Castle o’ Quharity!
-
-
-
-
-FAUR-YE-WEEL
-
-
-  As ye come through the Sea-Gate ye’ll find a hoose we ken
-  Whaur, when a man is drouthy, his drouth an’ he gang ben,
-  And whiles o’ nichts there’s dancin’ and aye there’s drink by day
-  And a fiddler-carle sits yonder an’ gars his fiddle play:
-        “Oh come, ye ancient mariners,
-            Nae maitter soond or lame,
-        For tho’ ye gae on hirplin’[23] tae
-            Ye’ll syne gang dancin’ hame;
-        The years are slippin’ past ye
-            Like water past the bows,
-  _Roond half the warld ye’ve toss’d yer dram but sune ye’ll hae to
-    lowse._”[24]
-  The toon is like a picture, the sea is bonnie blue,
-  The fiddle’s cryin’ aff the shore to captain, mate, an’ crew,
-  An’ them that’s had for music the swirl o’ gannet’s wings,
-  The winds that drive frae Denmark, they dootna what it sings:
-        “Oh come, ye dandy Baltic lads
-            That sail to Elsinore,
-        Ye’re newly in, ye’ll surely win
-            To hae a spree ashore;
-        Lairn frae the sea, yer maister,
-            When fortune’s i’ ye’re debt,
-  _The cauld waves washin’ past the bar tak’ a’ that they can get!_”
-
-  And when the quays are lichtit an’ dark the ocean lies,
-  The daft mune, like a feckless fule, keeks doon to mock the wise;
-  Awa’ in quiet closes the fiddle’s voice is heard
-  Whaur some that should be sleepin’ are listenin’ for its word:
-        “Sae haste ye noo, ye rovin’ queyns,
-            An’ gie yer dads the slip,
-        Tho’ dour auld men sit girnin’ ben
-            There’s young anes aff the ship,
-        Come, tak’ yer fill o’ dancin’,
-            Yer he’rts at hame maun bide,
-  _For the lad that tak’s a he’rt to sea will drap it owre the side!_”
-
-  And aye the fiddle’s playin’, the auld bow wauks the string,
-  The auld carle, stampin’ wi’ his fit, gies aye the time a swing;
-  Gang East, gang West, ye’ll hear it, it lifts ye like a reel:
-  _It’s niver dumb, an’ the tune sings “Come,” but its name is
-    Faur-ye-weel!_
-
-
-FOOTNOTES:
-
-[23] Limping.
-
-[24] To give up, to leave off.
-
-
-
-
-POEMS IN ENGLISH
-
-
-
-
-A YOUNG MAN’S SONG
-
-
-  My girl is true, my girl is sweet,
-      When in the town we chance to meet
-  It almost seems to me as though
-      A rose were growing in the street.
-
-  And if I see her in the lane,
-      Though winter’s freezing might and main,
-  I half suspect, in spite of all,
-      That Spring’s upon us once again.
-
-  When luck is out and things look blue
-      And folks are up against me too,
-  There’s naught in that to cast me down
-      Because she trusts me through and through.
-
-  And at the altar-railings when
-      My faith and truth I swear, oh then
-  I’ll pray, “God strike me if I fail--
-      So help me! World without end. Amen!”
-
-
-
-
-THE SHADOWS
-
-
-  Boughs of the pine and stars between,
-      In woods where shadows fill the air,
-  Oh, who may rest that once has been
-            A shadow there?
-
-  Sounds of the night and tears between,
-      The grey owl hooting, dimly heard;
-  Can footsteps reach those lands unseen,
-            Or wings of bird?
-
-  Days of the years and worlds between,
-      Still through the boughs the stars may burn,
-  The heart may break for lands unseen,
-      For woods wherein its life has been,
-            But not return.
-
-
-
-
-A WINTER PHANTASY
-
-
-  The day was all delight,
-      Chorus and golden tune;
-  Rides the steep night
-      The white ship of the moon.
-
-  Now that the night is come
-      And silence wakes to power,
-  All that was dumb
-      Has its triumphal hour.
-
-  My soul, behold a sail
-      The seas of Heaven upon,
-  Rise up and hail
-      That roving galleon.
-
-  High above winter frost
-      Speed on uncharted ways,
-  Enraptured, lost,
-      Past thrall of nights and days.
-
-  Burnt fervent-white with rime,
-      The blurred earth hangs beneath,
-  Frost-light sublime,
-      Frost-tapers lit for death.
-
-  Look down the mists and see
-      The orchards mazed with snow;
-  Grey, tangled tree,
-      Lichen and mistletoe.
-
-  But, ere the dim world falls
-      Engulfed, upon your track,
-  Even at Heaven’s walls,
-      Turn back, turn back!
-
-  And as the miles decrease,
-      By all that foils regret,
-  By all that is your peace,
-      My soul, forget.
-
-
-
-
-MARSEY TOWN
-
-
-  As I came over the Hill of Clayne
-          Or ever the leaf was brown,
-      The wind blew light in the pods of broom,
-      For the gay, gold flower had lost its bloom,
-  And “O the jewel,” I sang again,
-          “That’s waiting in Marsey Town!”
-
-  The shadows raced on the sun-swept hill,
-          And dappled its ancient crown,
-      The kestrel hovered on wings outspread,
-      The rabbit slipped through the bracken-bed
-  And the world beat time as I sang my fill
-          And travelled to Marsey Town.
-
-  O foolish singer and foolish song!
-          The lure of a pinchbeck clown
-      Had thieved my jewel, my heart’s own core,
-      My goal was gained, but I sang no more,
-  And I turned me home as the shades grew long
-          From the steeples of Marsey Town.
-
-  A lad came over the Hill of Clayne
-          A-singing as he stepped down--
-      Aye me! forget what a fool has said,
-      For I called him “I” but he’s long, long dead--
-  Dumb--gone like the sound of his own refrain
-          And buried in Marsey Town!
-
-
-
-
-THE SEASONS
-
-
-  “Mother, I know Spring bears her gifts
-      Of young buds scarce unfurled,
-  For through bare apple-boughs I see
-      The blue hills of the world;
-  And the pale daffodils are set
-      Sharp, in the April light----”
-  “The gift that Spring has brought to me
-      Is fight, my son, fight.”
-
-  “And, Mother, on the heels of Spring
-      The seasons follow hard,
-  When Summer glorifies the field
-      And Autumn stacks the yard;
-  Time was, I watched their gifts unroll,
-      And scarce could choose the best----”
-  “The gift that I would have of them
-      Is rest, my son, rest.”
-
-  “But, Mother, might they grant your boon
-      And were the conflict done,
-  O Mother, have you strength to stand----?”
-      “I would lie down, my son.”
-  “Where would you look to ease your eyes
-      When strife with tears had ceas’t?
-  And whither would your feet be turned----?”
-      “East, my son, east.”
-
-
-_Printed by Hazell Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, England_
-
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bonnie Joann, by Violet Jacob</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Bonnie Joann</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>and other poems</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Violet Jacob</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 6, 2022 [eBook #69484]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sonya Schermann and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BONNIE JOANN ***</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-<h1>BONNIE JOANN</h1>
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter bbox">
-<p class="center big u">BY VIOLET JACOB</p>
-
-<p class="center xbig">SONGS <i>of</i> ANGUS</p>
-
-<p class="center">FIFTH IMPRESSION</p>
-
-
-<p>“The dialect is Angus, and in every song there is the sound of the east
-wind and the rain.... She has many moods, from the stalwart humour of
-‘The Beadle o’ Drumlee’ and ‘Jeemsie Miller’ to the haunting lilt of
-‘The Gean-Trees’ and the pathos of ‘Craigo Woods’ and ‘The Lang Road,’
-but in them all are the same clarity of vision and clear beauty of
-phrase.”</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. John Buchan’s</span> <i>Preface</i>.<br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="r5">
-<p class="center">LONDON: JOHN MURRAY</p>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter ">
-<p class="center"><span class="xbig">BONNIE JOANN</span><br>
-<span class="small">AND OTHER POEMS</span></p>
-<p class="center big p2">BY VIOLET JACOB</p>
-<p class="center p4">LONDON<br>
-JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.<br>
-1921
-</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p class="center big"><span class="smcap">All Rights Reserved</span></p>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p class="center">TO MY NEPHEW<br>
-<span class="big">WILLIAM KENNEDY-ERSKINE</span><br>
-MOST UNDERSTANDING OF READERS
-</p></div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<table class="autotable">
-<tr><th></th><th class="tdr">PAGE</th></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#BONNIE_JOANN">BONNIE JOANN</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_WIND_FRAE_THE_BALTIC">THE WIND FRAE THE BALTIC</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_TRAMP_TO_THE_TATTIE-DULIE">THE TRAMP TO THE TATTIE-DULIE</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#HALLOWEEN">HALLOWE’EN</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#ADAM">ADAM</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_DAFT_BIRD">THE DAFT BIRD</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#PRIDE">PRIDE</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#KIRRIE">‘KIRRIE’</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_END_OT">THE END O’T</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_KELPIE">THE KELPIE</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#BALTIC_STREET">BALTIC STREET</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#BAILIE_BRUCE">BAILIE BRUCE</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#CHARLEWAYN17">CHARLEWAYN</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_MUCKLE_MOU">THE MUCKLE MOU’</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_34">34</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_GANGEREL">THE GANGEREL</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_TINKLERS_BALOO">THE TINKLER’S BALOO</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_BANKS_O_THE_ESK">THE BANKS O’ THE ESK</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_WISE-LIKE_CHAP">THE WISE-LIKE CHAP</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#INVERQUHARITY">INVERQUHARITY</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#FAUR-YE-WEEL">FAUR-YE-WEEL</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#POEMS_IN_ENGLISH">IN ENGLISH</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#A_YOUNG_MANS_SONG">A YOUNG MAN’S SONG</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_SHADOWS">THE SHADOWS</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#A_WINTER_PHANTASY">A WINTER PHANTASY</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#MARSEY_TOWN">MARSEY TOWN</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
-<tr><td>
-<a href="#THE_SEASONS">THE SEASONS</a></td>
-<td class="tdr page">
-<a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="r5">
-<p class="center">All these poems, with the exception of the last two in the book, have
-appeared in <i>Country Life</i>, and I have to thank the editor for his
-courteous permission to reproduce them.</p>
-
-<p class="right">
-V. J.
-</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center xbig">BONNIE JOANN<br><span class="small"><i>AND OTHER POEMS</i></span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="BONNIE_JOANN">BONNIE JOANN</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We’ve stookit the hairst an’ we’re needin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To gaither it in,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Syne, gin the morn’s dry, we’ll be leadin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An’ wark’ll begin;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But noo I’ll awa doon the braeside</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My lane, while I can—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wha kens wha he’ll meet by the wayside,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My bonnie Joann?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">East yonder, the hairst-fields are hidin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The sea frae my een,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gin ye keek whaur the stocks are dividin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ye’ll see it atween.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sae douce an’ sae still it has sleepit</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Since hairst-time began</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like my he’rt—gin ye’d tak’ it an’ keep it</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">My bonnie Joann.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Owre a’thing the shadows gang trailin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Owre stubble an’ strae;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frae the hedge to the fit o’ the pailin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They rax owre the way;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the sun may gang through wi’ his beamin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An’ traivel his span,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For aye, by the licht o’ my dreamin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I see ye, Joann.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Awa frae ye, naebody’s braver,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mair wise-like an’ bauld,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aside ye, I hech an’ I haver,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I’m het an’ I’m cauld;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But oh! could I tell wi’out speakin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The he’rt o’ a man,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye micht find I’m the lad that ye’re seekin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My bonnie Joann!</span><br>
-</p>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WIND_FRAE_THE_BALTIC">THE WIND FRAE THE BALTIC</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Below the wa’s, oot-by Montrose,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tides ca’ up an’ doon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mony’s the gallant mairchantman</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lies in aside the toon;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, it’s fine alang the tideway</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The loupin’ waters rin</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the wind is frae the Baltic wi’ the brigs comin’ in.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’d gie the ring upon my hand</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To hide me frae the sea</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That manes by nicht an’ cries by day</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The dule that’s come to me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I’ll hear nae mair the fit-fa’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When hame the brigs may win</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">O’ a man that sailed the Baltic, nor his step comin’ in.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And noo the toon is fair asteer,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The weans rin doon the street,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I may turn my face aboot</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An’ get me hame to greet,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s sic a joy wi’ a’ fowk</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My tears wad be a sin,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the wind is frae the Baltic—an’ the brigs comin’ in.</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TRAMP_TO_THE_TATTIE-DULIE">THE TRAMP TO THE TATTIE-DULIE</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thrawn-leggit carle wi’ airms on hie</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And jist a hole for ilka ee,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye needna lift yer hand to me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">As though ye’d strike me;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’re threits abune an’ strae below,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what-like use is sic a show?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye maun respec’ me, bogle, tho’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ye mauna like me!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To gutsy doo or thievin’ craw</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye mebbe represent the law</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they come fleein’ owre the wa’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To tak’ an airin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dod, I’ll no say they arena richt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When sic a fell, unchancy sicht</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gars them think twice afore they licht—</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">But <i>I’m</i> no carin’!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yer heid’s a neep,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> yer wame’s<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> a sack,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yer ill-faured face gars bairnies shak’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But yet the likes o’ you can mak’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A livin’ frae it;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sma’ use to me! It isna fair</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For though there’s mony wad declare</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I’m no far ahint ye there,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>I</i> canna dae it!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life’s a disgust wi’ a’ its ways,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For free o’ chairge ye get yer claes,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nae luck hae I on washin’-days—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">There’s plenty dryin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But gin I see a usefu’ sark</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ bide or gloamin’ help my wark,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The guidwife’s oot afore it’s dark—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And leaves nane lyin’.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weel, weel, I’m aff. It’s little pleasure</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see ye standin’ at yer leisure</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I’ve sae mony miles to measure</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span><span style="margin-left: 4em;">To get a meal!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye idle dog! My bonnet’s through,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ yours is no exac’ly new,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a’ the same I’ll hae’t frae you,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And faur-ye-weel!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Turnip.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Belly.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="HALLOWEEN">HALLOWE’EN</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tattie-liftin’s nearly through,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They’re ploughin’ whaur the barley grew,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll see the horsemen stand an’ crack</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Lachlan, but I mind o’ you!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I mind foo often we hae seen</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The nakit branches, an’ below</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Baith fairm an’ bothie hae their show,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alowe wi’ lichts o’ Hallowe’en.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s bairns wi’ guizards<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> at their tail</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clourin’ the doors wi’ runts<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> o’ kail,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And fine ye’ll hear the skreichs an’ skirls</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O’ lassies wi’ their droukit curls</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bobbin’ for aipples i’ the pail.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bothie fire is loupin’ het,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A new heid horseman’s kist is set</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Richts o’ the lum; whaur by the blaze</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The auld ane stude that kept yer claes—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I canna thole to see it yet!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But gin the auld fowks’ tales are richt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O freend o’ freends! what wad I gie</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To feel ye rax yer hand to me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Atween the dark an’ caun’le licht?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Awa in France, across the wave,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ you an’ me their lowe hae seen—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll mebbe hae yer Hallowe’en</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yont, whaur ye’re lyin’ wi’ the lave.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s drink an’ daffin’, sang an’ dance</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ploys and kisses get their chance,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But Lachlan, man, the place I see</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is whaur the auld kist used to be</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the lichts o’ Hallowe’en in France!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Mummers who go from door to door.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Cabbage-stalks.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADAM">ADAM</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’re richt weel buskit, yer poke is fu’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ye ride i’ yer ain machine;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Twould tak a fule to hae words wi’ you</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">An’ no ken the gowk he’s been.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At rowp or preachin’ the best ye’ll hae,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This warld or the neist ane’s gear,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The breist<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> o’ the laft on a Sawbath day,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or a seat by the auctioneer.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’re no jist auld an’ ye arena young,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But it doesna affec’ the case,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I’m aye that fear’d o’ a wumman’s tongue</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That I’m like to forget her face.</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ fowk says “Donal’, ye’re forty past,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I doot she’ll be fifty-three,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ye maun settle yersel’ at last</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That hasna a spare bawbee.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, youth’s a ploy, but it winna bide</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And a body’s gettin’ on—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What ails ye, man, at a thrifty bride</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ a dandy bit hoose like yon?”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Them’s wise-like bodies I hae to thank</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And mebbe they’re no far wrang;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But whiles ye’ll step frae a creakin’ plank</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ doon i’ the glaur<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> ye’ll gang!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It’s warm, thae nichts, i’ the auld King’s Heid;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What better can ye desire</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than a lass to bring ye the dram ye need</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ yer billies aroond the fire?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ wha is’t redes me to tak’ a wife?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A puckle o’ single men!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No ane, I’m thinkin’, wad risk his life</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ a jaud that he disna ken!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ll wish ye luck an’ a braw guidman,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And weel may ye baith agree,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I’m no seekin’ ye, Maggie-Ann,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And I doot that he’ll no be me!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> The front seat in the gallery.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Mud.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DAFT_BIRD">THE DAFT BIRD</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When day is past an’ peace comes doon wi’ gloamin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ twa by twa the young fowk pass the yett,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Auld stocks like me maun let their thochts content them,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Mindin’ o’ coortin’s that they’ll no forget.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’re no sae far awa the nicht, my Marget,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Tho’ on the brae-heid, past the dyke ye lie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur ae daft bird is singin’ i’ the kirkyaird</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And ae star watches i’ the evenin’ sky.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Late bird, daft bird, the likes o’ you are bedded,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The daylicht’s deid, it’s hame that ye should be,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yer voice is naucht to them that canna hear ye;</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">But sing you on, it isna naucht to me.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dod, like yersel’, it’s time that I was sleepin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sae lang it is since Marget laid her doon,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ilka year treids up ahint anither</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Like evenin’s ghaist ahint the aifternoon.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For rest comes slaw to you an’ me, I’m thinkin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oor day’s wark’s surely lang o’ wearin’ through,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gloamin’s had been wearier an’ langer,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thae nichts o’ June, late warker, wantin’ you.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I maun hae patience yet, I’ll no be grievin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">There’s them that disna fail tho’ day be spent,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ yon daft bird’s aye singing i’ the kirkyaird—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lord, I will bide my time, an’ bide content.</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="PRIDE">PRIDE</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did iver ye see the like o’ that?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The warld’s fair fashioned to winder at!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heuch—dinna tell me! Yon’s Fishie Pete</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That cried the haddies in Ferry Street</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set up wi’ his coats an’ his grand cigars</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In ane o’ they stinkin’ motor-cars!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I mind the time (an’ it’s no far past)</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he wasna for fleein’ alang sae fast</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ doon i’ the causey his cairt wad stand</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he roared oot “Haddies!” below his hand;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’d up wi’ yer windy an’ doon he’d loup</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frae the shaft o’ the cairt by the sheltie’s doup<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aye, muckle cheenges an’ little sense,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A bawbee’s wut an’ a poond’s pretence!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For there’s him noo wi’ his neb to the sky</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ yon deil’s machinery swiggit<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> by,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ me, that whiles gi’ed him a piece to eat,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tramps aye to the kirk on my ain twa feet.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, nee’bours, mind ye, the warld’s a-gley</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or we couldna see what we’ve seen the day,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guid fortune’s blate whaur she’s weel desairv’t</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sinner fu’ an’ the godly stairv’t,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ fowk like me an’ my auld guidman</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jist wearied, daein’ the best we can!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ve kept my lips an’ my tongue frae guile</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ kept mysel’ to mysel’ the while;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Agin a’ wastrels I’ve aye been set</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I’m no for seekin’ to thole them yet;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A grand example I’ve been through life,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A righteous liver, a thrifty wife.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But oh! the he’rt o’ a body bleeds</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For favours sclarried<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> on sinfu’ heids.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wait you a whilie! Ye needna think</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They’ll no gang frae him wi’ cairds an’ drink!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They’ll bring nae blessin’, they winna bide,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the warst sin, nee’bours, is pride, aye, pride!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> Croup.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> Swung, whirled.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Spilt.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="KIRRIE">‘KIRRIE’</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comin’ oot frae Kirrie, when the autumn gowd an’ siller</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At the hindmaist o’ September month has grips o’ tree an’ shaw,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The mune hung, deaved wi’ sunset, no a spunk o’ pride in till her,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nae better nor a bogle, till the licht was awa;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the haughs below the Grampains, i’ the evenin’ they were lyin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Like a lang-socht Land o’ Promise that the cauld mist couldna smoor;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ tho’ ye didna see it, ye could hear the river cryin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">If ye stood a while to listen on the road to Kirriemuir.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s an auld wife bides in Kirrie—set her up! a pridefu’ crater—</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">And she’s crackin’ aye o’ London an’ the grand fowk ye may see;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O’ the King, an’ syne his palace, till I’m sure I’m like to hate her,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For the mairket-day in Kirrie is the sicht for me.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ye ken I’m sweir to fash her, an’ it’s best to be agreein’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For gin ye dinna heed her, then she’s cankered-like an’ soor,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dod, she tells o’ muckle lairnin’—but I doot the bizzar’s<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> leein’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For it’s fules wad bide in London when they kent o’ Kirriemuir.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, the braw, braw toon o’ Kirrie! What a years that I hae lo’ed it!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And I winna seek to leave it tho’ I’m spared anither score;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’d be greetin’ like a laddie for the auld reid hooses croodit</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lookin’ down upon the steadin’s and the fields o’ Strathmore.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye may speak o’ heavenly mansions, ye may say it wadna grieve ye</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When ye quit a world sae bonnie—but I canna jist be sure,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I’ll hae to wait, I’m thinkin’, or I see if I believe ye,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For my first braid blink o’ Heaven, an’ my last o’ Kirriemuir!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Jade.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_END_OT">THE END O’T</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s a fine braw thistle that lifts its croon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the river-bank whaur the ashes stand,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the swirl o’ water comes whisp’rin’ doon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Past birk an’ bramble an’ grazin’ land.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But simmer’s flittit an’ time’s no heedin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A feckless lass nor a pridefu’ flow’r;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dark to hide me’s the grace I’m needin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">An’ the thistle’s seedin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 7em;">An’ my day’s owre.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I redd the hoose an’ I meat the hens</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(Oh, it’s ill to wark when ye daurna tire!)</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ what’ll I get when my mither kens</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It’s niver a maiden that biggs her fire?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I mind my pray’rs, but I’m feared to say them,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I hide my een, for they’re greetin’ fast,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What though I blind them—for wha wad hae them?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">The licht’s ga’en frae them</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span><span style="margin-left: 7em;">An’ my day’s past.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, wha tak’s tent for a fadin’ cheek?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">No him, I’se warrant, that gar’d it fade!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s little love for a lass to seek</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When the coortin’s through an’ the price is paid.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, aince forgotten’s forgotten fairly,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ heavy endit what’s licht begun,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But God forgie ye an’ keep ye, Chairlie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">For the nicht’s fa’en airly</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 7em;">An’ my day’s done!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_KELPIE">THE KELPIE</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’m feared o’ the road ayont the glen,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I’m sweir to pass the place</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur the water’s rinnin’, for a’ fowk ken</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s a kelpie sits at the fit o’ the den,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And there’s them that’s seen his face.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But whiles he watches an’ whiles he hides</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And whiles, gin na wind manes,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye can hear him roarin’ frae whaur he bides</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the soond o’ him splashin’ agin the sides</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O’ the rocks an’ the muckle stanes.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the mune gaes doon at the arn-tree’s back</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In a wee, wee weary licht,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My bed-claes up to my lugs I tak’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I mind the swirl o’ the water black</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ the cry i’ the fearsome nicht.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lang an’ fell is yon road to me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As I come frae the schule;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I duarna think what I’m like to see</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When dark fa’s airly on buss an’ tree</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At Martinmas and Yule.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aside the crusie<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> my mither reads,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">“My bairn,” says she, “ye’ve heard</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lord is mindfu’ o’ a’ oor needs</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ His shield an’ buckler’s abune the heids</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O’ them that keeps His word.”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I’m a laddie that’s no that douce,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ fechtin’s a bonnie game;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dominie’s pawmies<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> are little use,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ mony’s the Sawbath I’m rinnin’ loose</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When a’body thinks I’m hame!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dod, noo we’re nearin’ the shorter days,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It’s cannie I’ll hae to gang,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ keep frae fechtin’ an’ sic-like ways,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And no be tearin’ my Sawbath claes</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Afore that the nichts grow lang.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Richt guid an’ couthie I’ll need to be,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(But it’s leein’ to say I’m glad),</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I ken there’s troubles that fowk maun dree,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the kelpie’s no like to shift for me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sae, gin thae warlocks are fear’d o’ Thee,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lord, mak’ me a better lad!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Iron oil-lamp.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Canings.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="BALTIC_STREET">BALTIC STREET</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My dainty lass, lay you the blame</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Upon the richtfu’ heid;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Twas daft ill-luck that bigg’d yer hame</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The wrang side o’ the Tweed.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye hae yer tocher a’ complete,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’re bonnie as the rose,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I was born in Baltic Street,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In Baltic Street, Montrose!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lang syne on mony a waefu’ nicht,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hie owre the sea’s distress,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ve seen the great airms o’ the licht</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Swing oot frae Scurdyness;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ prood, in sunny simmer blinks,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When land-winds rase an’ fell,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’d flee my draigon<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> on the links</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ callants like mysel’.</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, Baltic Street is cauld an’ bare</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ mebbe nae sae grand,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ye’ll feel the smell i’ the caller air</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O’ kippers on the land.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">’Twixt kirk an’ street the deid fowk bide</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Their feet towards the sea,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ill nee’bours for a new-made bride,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Gin ye come hame wi’ me.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The steeple shades the kirkyaird grass,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The seamen’s hidden banes,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dour-like kirk to an English lass</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wha kens but English lanes;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when the haar, the winter through,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Creeps blind on close and wa’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My hame micht get a curse frae you,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Mysel’ get, mebbe, twa.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ll up an’ aff the morn’s morn</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To seek some reid-haired queyn,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bauld-he’rted, strang-nieved,<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> bred an’ born</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">In this auld toon o’ mine.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And oh! for mair I winna greet,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Gin we hae meal an’ brose</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a but an’ ben in Baltic Street,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In Baltic Street, Montrose!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Fly my kite.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> Strong-fisted.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="BAILIE_BRUCE">BAILIE BRUCE</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’d winder, when creation’s plan</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems sae acceptable to man,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Creator, in His power,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made brute an’ bird, an’ fruit an’ flower;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When e’en the wasps that bigg their bike</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ clocks<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> an’ golachs, an’ the like</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O’ a’ yon vairmin has their use,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What gar’d Him fashion Bailie Bruce?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He couldna thole to see a wean</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wheepin’ his pearie<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> on the green,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nae sweethe’rts coorted but he saw</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Auld Homie’s tail ahint the twa.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In godly wrath he aye wad show</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His hate o’ sinfu’ men; but tho’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wicked fled afore his face</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The guid aye passed them i’ the race.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oot frae the foremaist seat at kirk</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He roared the psalms like ony stirk,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For gripp’d was he by sic a zeal</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As nane but the elect micht feel;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ when the kirk-door plate was set,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi’ looks o’ pride ye’d ne’er forget,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When puir fowk laid their pennies doon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He’d gi’e his Maker half a croon.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weel, whiles oor ancient customs change</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ fowk accep’ what’s new an’ strange;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oor decent plate awa was laid</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For bonny baggies—English made.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sawbath cam’ roond; the kirk was in;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Bailie sat an’ glow’red on sin;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Elder brocht wi’ reverent feet</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His baggie to the foremaist seat.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In drapp’d the money; Bailie Bruce</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi’ open hand an’ purse-strings loose</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And e’en upliftit, kept his place;</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bag passed on its road o’ grace.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weel was’t he couldna see the smile</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That a’ yon kirk-fu’ had the while</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor yet the Elder’s twisted mou’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wrocht him a’ the journey through!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For oh! ahint the Bailie’s back</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was done a deed o’ shame to mak’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His righteous he’rt wi’ anger swell</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nane gie’d a bodle but himsel’!</i></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ at the coontin’, plain to see,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The baggie held but ae bawbee!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb">
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His health noo gars him keep the hoose;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Losh-aye! what ails him, Bailie Bruce?</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Beetles.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Whipping-top.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHARLEWAYN17">CHARLEWAYN<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<i>Yestere’n was Hallowe’en,</i></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>To-day is Hallow-day,</i></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>It’s nine free nichts to Martinmas,</i></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>And then we’ll get away.</i></span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Old Song among Angus Farm Servants.</span>)</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<p class="poetry p2">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frae Hallowe’en to Martinmas</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">There’s little time to fill,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet there’s mony a warkin’ lass</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thinks a’ the days stand still.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, cauld the mornin’ creeps on nicht</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Alang the eerie skies,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ cauld the blink o’ caun’le-licht</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That lets me see to rise.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For late an’ airly at the fairm</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The wark seems niver past,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a week, come Monday, brings the tairm</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When I may flit at last.</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My mither hauds her docters ticht,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My mither’s hoose is sma’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ I niver lo’ed my mither richt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Until I gaed awa.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But yestere’en was Hallowe’en</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When a’ may dance an’ sing;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The auld guidwife shut doon her e’en,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The young anes got their fling;</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set up, the fiddler wrocht. Below,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The reel swang ilka ane,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But my feet danced oot to meet my joe</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the licht o’ Charlewayn.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My mither’s hame’s a happy hame</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whaur easy I may lie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And o’ mysel’ I’m thinkin’ shame,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sic a feckless queyn am I.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, by the licht o’ Charlewayn,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It’s Rab that gar’d me lairn</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see a lover’s lass mair plain</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">E’en than a mither’s bairn.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aye, yestere’en was Hallowe’en,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ Martinmas is near;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It’s wae for Martinmas I’ve been</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But it’s like to find me here!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Charles’ Wain, the Plough.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MUCKLE_MOU">THE MUCKLE MOU’</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When ye are auld an’ pitten past,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll whiles be sittin’ wi’ a freen’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And crackin’, as ye hear the blast</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rage i’ the lum, o’ fowk ye’ve seen.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s some gangs whingein’,<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> singin’ sma’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ some that taks a baulder tune,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ae thing’s aye the same wi’ a’—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’ll see a lad—his hoose the best,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A thrivin’ swine in till his yaird,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His gairden fu’—he winna rest,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He’s wud because he’s no a laird!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He coorts a lass; she’ll tak’ her aith</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He isna fit to dicht her shune,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What’s wrang wi’ ane is wrang wi’ baith—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O’ tinkler-fowk, an’ fowk wi’ means</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll scarcely hae the time to speak,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men, wives an’ widdies, lords an’ weans,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The mair they get, the mair they’ll seek.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’d think the vera warld was deav’d</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ them that’s roarin’ for the mune,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nae maitter what they’ve a’ receiv’d</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Their mou’s owre muckle for their spune.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But when ye’ve lookit mony a year</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Upon yersel’ and ither men,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although to lairn ye’ve whiles been sweir,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">There’s twa-three things ye’re like to ken;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye winna need to mak’ ado</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ warstle wi’ the powers abune,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yer spune’s the measure o’ yer mou’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Gin ane is wrang, it’s no the spune!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> Whining.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GANGEREL">THE GANGEREL</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It’s ye maun whustle for a breeze</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Until the sails be fu’;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They bigg yon ships that ride the seas</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To pleasure fowk like you.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For ye hae siller i’ yer hand</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And a’ that gowd can buy,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But weary, in a weary land,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A gangerel-loon am I.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’ll feel the strang tides lift an’ toss</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The scud o’ nor’land faem,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when ye drap the Southern Cross</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It’s a’ roads lead ye hame.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ye shall see the shaws o’ broom</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wave on the windy hill,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alang the strath the hairst-fields toom<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And syne the stackyairds fill.</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’ll hear fu’ mony a raittlin’ cairt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On Forfar’s causey-croon,<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi’ young stirks loupin’ to the Mairt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That roars in Forfar toon.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O’ nichts, ayont yer snibbet door,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll see in changeless band,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abune Craig Oule, to keep Strathmore,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The stars of Scotland stand.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But tho’ ye think ye sicht them fine</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Gang ben an’ tak’ yer rest,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frae lands that niver kent their shine</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It’s me that sees them best!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For they shall brak’ their ancient trust,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shall rise nae mair nor set,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sidlaw hills be laid in dust</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Afore that I forget.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lowse ye the windy-sneck a wheen,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ glowre frae ilka airt</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fegs! Ye may see them wi’ yer een—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>I</i> see them wi’ my he’rt!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> Empty.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> The middle of the street.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TINKLERS_BALOO">THE TINKLER’S BALOO</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Haud yer whisht, my mannie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hide yer heid the noo,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s a jimp young mune i’ the branches abune</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ she’s keekin’ at me an’ you.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Near she is to settin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Waukin’ she shouldna be,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ mebbe she sees i’ the loan by the trees</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Owre muckle for you an’ me.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dinna cry on Daddie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Daddie’s by the fairm,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s a specklie hen that strays i’ the den</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ he’s fear’d she may come to hairm.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thieves is bauld an’ mony,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That’s what guid fowk say,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ they’d a’ complain gin the limmer was ta’en</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ cheughit afore it’s day.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sleep, an’ then, come Sawbath,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A feather o’ gray ye’ll get</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi’ specklies on it to set i’ yer bonnet</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ gar ye look brawer yet.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sae hide yer heid, my mannie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Haud yer whisht, my doo,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For we’ll hae to shift or the sun’s i’ the lift</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ I’m singin’ baloo, baloo!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_BANKS_O_THE_ESK">THE BANKS O’ THE ESK</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gin I were whaur the rowans hang</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Their berried heids aside the river,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’d hear the water slip alang,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The rowan-leaves abune me shiver;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And winds frae Angus braes wad sail</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To blaw me dreams owre peat an’ gale.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ blawn frae youth, thae dreams o’ mine</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wad find me, tho’ the rowans hide me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like hoolets gray they’d flit, an’ syne</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">They’d fauld their wings an’ licht aside me;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And aye the mair content I’d be</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The closer that they cam’ to me.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aside the Esk I’d lay me doon,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Atween the rowans and its windin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ tho’ the waters rase to droon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A weary carle, I’d no be mindin’;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I wad sleep, my rovin’ past,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon thae banks o’ dreams at last.</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WISE-LIKE_CHAP">THE WISE-LIKE CHAP</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aye, billies, I’m a wise-like chap,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I dinna smoke nor drink,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gin I gi’e my poke a slap</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye’ll hear the siller chink.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My feyther has an aicht-pair<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> fairm</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Weel set wi’ byre an’ stack;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s mony will obey me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ tak’ their pattern frae me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Annie winna hae me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Grannie’s saved a bit hersel’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She’s three-score year an’ ten,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wha’ll get the profit nane can tell</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">(An’ yet I think I ken!)</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It’s fules wad cross a rich auld wife,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sae a’ her fleers<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> I tak’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ tho’ it’s like to pay me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Richt little guid ’twill dae me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Annie winna hae me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye’ll mebbe mind the miller’s loon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That was a fair disgrace;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His auld dune hat was clour’d abune</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ mill-dust on his face.</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gowk! He gaed awa to fecht</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And syne cam’ crippl’t back;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yestre’en he passed my Grannie</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi’ his left airm bandig’t cannie—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But his richt ane happit Annie,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> The size of Angus farms is expressed by the number of
-horses required to work them.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Jibes.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="INVERQUHARITY">INVERQUHARITY</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Aside the Quharity burn</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I ken na what I’m seein’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ the licht near deein’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the lang year at the turn;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But the dog that gangs wi’ me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Creeps whingein’ at my knee,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we baith haud thegither</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a lad an’ his brither</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At the water o’ Quharity.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alang the Quharity glen</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I mind on warlock’s faces,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I’ the still, dark places</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur the trees hae airms like men;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And I ken the beast can see</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yon een that’s watchin’ me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur the arn-boughs darken</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ I’m owre fear’d to harken</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">I’ the glen o’ Quharity.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Quharity Castle wa’s</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The toor is like a prison,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or a deid man risen</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amang the birken shaws;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the sweit upon my bree</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is drappin’ cauld frae me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Till the ill spell’s broken</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the Haly Word spoken</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the wa’s o’ Quharity.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alang the Valley o’ Deith</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">There’ll be mony a warlock wait’n</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wi’ the thrangin’ hosts o’ Sat’n</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till I tak’ my hin’maist breith;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ I’m fear’d there winna be</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The dog to gang wi’ me</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ I doot the way is wearier</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ the movin’ shadows eerier</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than the jaws o’ Quharity.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I’ll whisper the Haly Name</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For thae list’nin’ lugs to hear me,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An’ the herds o’ Hell’ll fear me</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ tak’ the road they came;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For the wild dark wings’ll flee</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Frae their bield in branch an’ tree—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nae mair the black airms thrawin’!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nae mair the ill sough blawin’!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For my day o’ days is dawin’</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Owre the Castle o’ Quharity!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="FAUR-YE-WEEL">FAUR-YE-WEEL</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ye come through the Sea-Gate ye’ll find a hoose we ken</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur, when a man is drouthy, his drouth an’ he gang ben,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whiles o’ nichts there’s dancin’ and aye there’s drink by day</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a fiddler-carle sits yonder an’ gars his fiddle play:</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">“Oh come, ye ancient mariners,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Nae maitter soond or lame,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">For tho’ ye gae on hirplin’<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> tae</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Ye’ll syne gang dancin’ hame;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The years are slippin’ past ye</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Like water past the bows,</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Roond half the warld ye’ve toss’d yer dram but sune ye’ll hae to lowse.</i>”<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The toon is like a picture, the sea is bonnie blue,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fiddle’s cryin’ aff the shore to captain, mate, an’ crew,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An’ them that’s had for music the swirl o’ gannet’s wings,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The winds that drive frae Denmark, they dootna what it sings:</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">“Oh come, ye dandy Baltic lads</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">That sail to Elsinore,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ye’re newly in, ye’ll surely win</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">To hae a spree ashore;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lairn frae the sea, yer maister,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">When fortune’s i’ ye’re debt,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The cauld waves washin’ past the bar tak’ a’ that they can get!</i>”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when the quays are lichtit an’ dark the ocean lies,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The daft mune, like a feckless fule, keeks doon to mock the wise;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Awa’ in quiet closes the fiddle’s voice is heard</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whaur some that should be sleepin’ are listenin’ for its word:</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">“Sae haste ye noo, ye rovin’ queyns,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">An’ gie yer dads the slip,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Tho’ dour auld men sit girnin’ ben</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">There’s young anes aff the ship,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Come, tak’ yer fill o’ dancin’,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Yer he’rts at hame maun bide,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For the lad that tak’s a he’rt to sea will drap it owre the side!</i>”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And aye the fiddle’s playin’, the auld bow wauks the string,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The auld carle, stampin’ wi’ his fit, gies aye the time a swing;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gang East, gang West, ye’ll hear it, it lifts ye like a reel:</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>It’s niver dumb, an’ the tune sings “Come,” but its name is Faur-ye-weel!</i></span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Limping.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
-
-<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> To give up, to leave off.</p>
-
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p>
-<p class="xbig center" id="POEMS_IN_ENGLISH">POEMS IN ENGLISH</p>
-</div>
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_YOUNG_MANS_SONG">A YOUNG MAN’S SONG</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My girl is true, my girl is sweet,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When in the town we chance to meet</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It almost seems to me as though</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A rose were growing in the street.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if I see her in the lane,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Though winter’s freezing might and main,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I half suspect, in spite of all,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That Spring’s upon us once again.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When luck is out and things look blue</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And folks are up against me too,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There’s naught in that to cast me down</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Because she trusts me through and through.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at the altar-railings when</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My faith and truth I swear, oh then</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I’ll pray, “God strike me if I fail—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So help me! World without end. Amen!”</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SHADOWS">THE SHADOWS</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boughs of the pine and stars between,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In woods where shadows fill the air,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, who may rest that once has been</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">A shadow there?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sounds of the night and tears between,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The grey owl hooting, dimly heard;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can footsteps reach those lands unseen,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Or wings of bird?</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Days of the years and worlds between,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Still through the boughs the stars may burn,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heart may break for lands unseen,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For woods wherein its life has been,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 6em;">But not return.</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_WINTER_PHANTASY">A WINTER PHANTASY</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The day was all delight,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Chorus and golden tune;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rides the steep night</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The white ship of the moon.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now that the night is come</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And silence wakes to power,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All that was dumb</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Has its triumphal hour.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My soul, behold a sail</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The seas of Heaven upon,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rise up and hail</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That roving galleon.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High above winter frost</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Speed on uncharted ways,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enraptured, lost,</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Past thrall of nights and days.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Burnt fervent-white with rime,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The blurred earth hangs beneath,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Frost-light sublime,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Frost-tapers lit for death.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look down the mists and see</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The orchards mazed with snow;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grey, tangled tree,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lichen and mistletoe.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But, ere the dim world falls</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Engulfed, upon your track,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Even at Heaven’s walls,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Turn back, turn back!</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as the miles decrease,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By all that foils regret,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By all that is your peace,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My soul, forget.</span><br>
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p>
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="MARSEY_TOWN">MARSEY TOWN</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I came over the Hill of Clayne</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Or ever the leaf was brown,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The wind blew light in the pods of broom,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For the gay, gold flower had lost its bloom,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And “O the jewel,” I sang again,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">“That’s waiting in Marsey Town!”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The shadows raced on the sun-swept hill,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And dappled its ancient crown,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The kestrel hovered on wings outspread,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The rabbit slipped through the bracken-bed</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the world beat time as I sang my fill</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And travelled to Marsey Town.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O foolish singer and foolish song!</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The lure of a pinchbeck clown</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Had thieved my jewel, my heart’s own core,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My goal was gained, but I sang no more,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I turned me home as the shades grew long</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span><span style="margin-left: 5em;">From the steeples of Marsey Town.</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A lad came over the Hill of Clayne</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">A-singing as he stepped down—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Aye me! forget what a fool has said,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For I called him “I” but he’s long, long dead—</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dumb—gone like the sound of his own refrain</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And buried in Marsey Town!</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SEASONS">THE SEASONS</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="poetry">
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Mother, I know Spring bears her gifts</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of young buds scarce unfurled,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For through bare apple-boughs I see</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The blue hills of the world;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the pale daffodils are set</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sharp, in the April light——”</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“The gift that Spring has brought to me</span><br>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is fight, my son, fight.”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“And, Mother, on the heels of Spring</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The seasons follow hard,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Summer glorifies the field</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And Autumn stacks the yard;</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Time was, I watched their gifts unroll,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And scarce could choose the best——”</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“The gift that I would have of them</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is rest, my son, rest.”</span><br>
-<br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“But, Mother, might they grant your boon</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And were the conflict done,</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Mother, have you strength to stand——?”</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">“I would lie down, my son.”</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Where would you look to ease your eyes</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When strife with tears had ceas’t?</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whither would your feet be turned——?”</span><br>
-<span style="margin-left: 3em;">“East, my son, east.”</span><br>
-</p>
-
-
-<p class="center p2"><i>Printed by Hazell Watson &amp; Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
-England</i></p>
-
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BONNIE JOANN ***</div>
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