The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
AN AULD SCOTTISH SANG.
Owre the land as I travel, my finery to shew,
I ne'er harass my mind wi' sorrow or woe;
But blythely tak' the road, and while journeying alang,
Croon cheer'ly to mysel' an' auld Scottish sang.
I ne'er harass my mind wi' sorrow or woe;
But blythely tak' the road, and while journeying alang,
Croon cheer'ly to mysel' an' auld Scottish sang.
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And when frae some farm-town I'm ordered to depart,
I ne'er tak' their insult wi' sorrow to my heart;
But lea' them wi' contempt, weel knowing they are wrang,
Aye comfortin' my heart wi' an auld Scottish sang.
I ne'er tak' their insult wi' sorrow to my heart;
But lea' them wi' contempt, weel knowing they are wrang,
Aye comfortin' my heart wi' an auld Scottish sang.
While I travel thro' the woods sae lanesome and drear,
It aye gi'es me pleasure my ain voice to hear;
An' sae aneath my pack, as I lightly trudge alang,
I wake the wild wood's echo wi' an auld Scottish sang.
It aye gi'es me pleasure my ain voice to hear;
An' sae aneath my pack, as I lightly trudge alang,
I wake the wild wood's echo wi' an auld Scottish sang.
Ae nicht in my rambles, a lodgin' I sought
Frae a lanely auld woman wha lived in a cot;
She ca'd me a thief, and made the door play bang,
Sae aff I set chaunting an auld Scottish sang.
Frae a lanely auld woman wha lived in a cot;
She ca'd me a thief, and made the door play bang,
Sae aff I set chaunting an auld Scottish sang.
Anither time I rappet at an auld cobbler's door,
When swearin', out he cam' wi' a most infernal roar;
Syne wi' a' his micht, a hammer at me flang,
Sae I tun'd him in his swearin' wi' an auld Scottish sang.
When swearin', out he cam' wi' a most infernal roar;
Syne wi' a' his micht, a hammer at me flang,
Sae I tun'd him in his swearin' wi' an auld Scottish sang.
Anither time I travell'd when the snaw fell thick and fast,
An' caul frae the hills cam' the biten' norlan' blast;
I lost my pack wi' every thing that did to me belang,
Yet still kept up my heart wi' an auld Scottish sang.
An' caul frae the hills cam' the biten' norlan' blast;
I lost my pack wi' every thing that did to me belang,
Yet still kept up my heart wi' an auld Scottish sang.
Sae an auld Scottish sang's aye a pleasure to me,
Whether travelin' by lan', or sailin' by sea;
It cheers the dull road, an' mak's short what seems lang,
O, a blessing to me is an auld Scottish sang!
Whether travelin' by lan', or sailin' by sea;
It cheers the dull road, an' mak's short what seems lang,
O, a blessing to me is an auld Scottish sang!
A. WILSON.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |