The een o' love can pierce the mools that hide a sodger's grave,
An' love that doesna' heed the sod will naither hear the wave,
But it canna' see 'ayont the cloud that hauds my youngest doon
Wi' its mist o' greed an' sorrow i' the smokin' toon.
An whiles, when through the open door there fades the deein' licht,
I think I hear my ain twa men come up the road at nicht,
But him that bides the nearest seems the furthest aye frae me--
And it's lang, lang listenin' till I hear the three!
THE BEADLE O' DRUMLEE
Them that's as highly placed as me
(Wha am the beadle o' Drumlee)
Should na be prood, nor yet owre free.
Me an' the meenister, ye ken,
Are no the same as a' thae men
We hae for neebours i' the glen.
The Lord gie'd him some lairnin' sma'
An me guid sense abune them a',
An them nae wuts to ken wha's wha.
Ye'd think, to hear the lees they tell,
The Sawbath day could mind itsel'
Withoot a hand to rug the bell,
Ye'd think the Reverend Paitrick Broun
Could ca' the Bible up an' doon
An' loup his lane in till his goon.
Whiles, gin he didna get frae me
The wicelike wird I weel can gie,
Whaur wad the puir bit callant be?
The elders, Ross an' Weellum Aird,
An' fowk like Alexander Caird,
That think they're cocks o' ilka yaird,
Fegs aye! they'd na be sweir to rule
A lad sae newly frae the schule
Gin _my_ auld bonnet crooned a fule!
But oh! Jehovah's unco' kind!
Whaur wad this doited pairish find
A man wi' sic a powerfu' mind?
Sae, let the pairish sleep at nicht
Blind wi' the elders' shinin' licht,
Nor ken wha's hand keeps a' things richt.
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