 | Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems |  |
XXIII
Athole Brose
Willie an' I cam doun by Blair
And in by Tullibardine,
The Rye were at the waterside,
An' bee-skeps in the garden.
I saw the reek of a private still—
Says I, ‘Gud Lord, I thank ye!’
As Willie and I cam in by Blair
And out by Killiecrankie.
And in by Tullibardine,
The Rye were at the waterside,
An' bee-skeps in the garden.
I saw the reek of a private still—
Says I, ‘Gud Lord, I thank ye!’
As Willie and I cam in by Blair
And out by Killiecrankie.
Ye hinny bees, ye smuggler lads,
Thou, Muse, the bard's protector,
I never kent what Rye was for
Till I had drunk the nectar!
And shall I never drink it mair?
Gud troth, I beg your pardon!
The neist time I come doun by Blair
And in by Tullibardine.
Thou, Muse, the bard's protector,
I never kent what Rye was for
Till I had drunk the nectar!
And shall I never drink it mair?
Gud troth, I beg your pardon!
The neist time I come doun by Blair
And in by Tullibardine.
| Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems | |