Heaven's hosts are glad,
Heaven's hames are bricht,
And in yon streets o' licht
Walks mony an Angus lad;
But my he'rt's aye back
Whaur my ain toon stands,
And the steeple's shade is laid when the tide's at the slack
On the lang sands.
[2] Sea-fog.
THE ROAD TO MARYKIRK
To Marykirk ye'll set ye forth,
An' whustle as ye step alang,
An' aye the Grampians i' the North
Are glow'rin' on ye as ye gang.
By Martin's Den, through beech an' birk,
A breith comes soughin', sweet an' strang,
Alang the road to Marykirk.
Frae mony a field ye'll hear the cry
O' teuchits,[3] skirlin' on the wing,
Noo East, noo West, amang the kye,
An smell o' whins the wind 'll bring;
Aye, lad, it blaws a thocht to mock
The licht o' day on ilka thing--
For you, that went yon road last spring,
Are lying deid in Flanders, Jock.
[3] Lapwings.
KIRSTY'S OPINION
Fine div I ken what ails yon puddock, Janet,
That aince would hae her neb set up sae hie;
There's them that disna' seem to understan' it,
I'se warrant ye it's plain eneuch to me!
Maybe ye'll mind her man--a fine wee cratur,
Owre blate to speak (puir thing, he didna' daur);
What gar'd him fecht was jist his douce-like natur';
Gairmans is bad, but Janet's tongue was waur.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41