Hamish Hendry's "Beadle," one or two of Hugh Haliburton's Ochil
poems, Mr. Charles Murray's "Whistle" and his versions of Horace,
and a few fragments from the "poet's corners" of country newspapers.
To my own edition of this anthology I would add unhesitatingly Mrs.
Jacob's "Tam i' the Kirk," and "The Gowk."
JOHN BUCHAN.
CONTENTS
TAM I' THE KIRK
THE HOWE O' THE MEARNS
THE LANG ROAD
THE BEADLE O' DRUMLEE
THE WATER-HEN
THE HEID HORSEMAN
JEEMSIE MILLER
THE GEAN-TREES
THE TOD
THE BLIND SHEPHERD
THE DOO'COT UP THE BRAES
LOGIE KIRK
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE DITCH
THE LOST LICHT
THE LAD I' THE MUNE
THE GOWK
THE JACOBITE LASS
MAGGIE
THE WHUSTLIN' LAD
HOGMANAY
CRAIGO WOODS
THE WILD GEESE
TAM I' THE KIRK
O Jean, my Jean, when the bell ca's the congregation
Owre valley an' hill wi' the ding frae its iron mou',
When a'body's thochts is set on his ain salvation,
Mine's set on you.
There's a reid rose lies on the Buik o' the Word 'afore ye
That was growin' braw on its bush at the keek o' day,
But the lad that pu'd yon flower i' the mornin's glory,
He canna pray.
He canna pray; but there's nane i' the kirk will heed him
Whaur he sits sae still his lane at the side o' the wa,
For nane but the reid rose kens what my lassie gie'd him--
It an' us twa!
He canna sing for the sang that his ain he'rt raises,
He canna see for the mist that's 'afore his een,
An a voice drouns the hale o' the psalms an' the paraphrases,
Cryin' "Jean, Jean, Jean!"
THE HOWE O' THE MEARNS
Laddie, my lad, when ye gang at the tail o' the plough
An' the days draw in,
When the burnin' yellow's awa' that was aince a-lowe
On the braes o' whin,
Do ye mind o' me that's deaved wi' the wearyfu' south
An' it's puir concairns
While the weepies fade on the knowes at the river's mouth
In the Howe o' the Mearns?
There was nae twa lads frae the Grampians doon to the Tay
That could best us twa;
At bothie or dance, or the field on a fitba' day,
We could sort them a';
An' at courtin'-time when the stars keeked doon on the glen
An' its theek o' fairns,
It was you an' me got the pick o' the basket then
In the Howe o' the Mearns.
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