Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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IN THE DAYS O' LANGSYNE. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
IN THE DAYS O' LANGSYNE.
In the days o' langsyne, when we carles were young,
An' nae Foreign fashions amang us had sprung;
When we made our ain bannocks, and brewed our ain yill,
An' were clad frae the sheep that gaed white on the hill;
O! the thocht o' thae days gars my auld heart aye fill!
An' nae Foreign fashions amang us had sprung;
When we made our ain bannocks, and brewed our ain yill,
An' were clad frae the sheep that gaed white on the hill;
O! the thocht o' thae days gars my auld heart aye fill!
In the days o' langsyne, we were happy and free,
Proud lords on the land, an' kings on the sea!
To our foes we were fierce, to our friends we were kind,
An' where battle raged loudest, you ever did find
The banner of Scotland float high in the wind!
Proud lords on the land, an' kings on the sea!
To our foes we were fierce, to our friends we were kind,
An' where battle raged loudest, you ever did find
The banner of Scotland float high in the wind!
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In the days o' langsyne, we aye ranted an' sang
By the warm ingle side, or the wild braes amang;
Our lads busked braw, an' our lasses looked fine,
An' the sun on our mountains seemed ever to shine;
O! where is the Scotland o' bonnie langsyne?
By the warm ingle side, or the wild braes amang;
Our lads busked braw, an' our lasses looked fine,
An' the sun on our mountains seemed ever to shine;
O! where is the Scotland o' bonnie langsyne?
In the days o' langsyne, ilka glen had its tale,
Sweet voices were heard in ilk breath o' the gale;
An' ilka wee burn had a sang o' its ain,
As it trotted alang through the valley or plain;
Shall we e'er hear the music o' streamlets again?
Sweet voices were heard in ilk breath o' the gale;
An' ilka wee burn had a sang o' its ain,
As it trotted alang through the valley or plain;
Shall we e'er hear the music o' streamlets again?
In the days o' langsyne, there was feasting an' glee,
Wi' pride in ilk heart, and joy in ilk e'e;
An' the auld, 'mang the nappy, their eild seemed to tine,
It was your stoup the nicht, an' the morn 'twas mine:
O! the days o' langsyne—O! the days o' langsyne.
Wi' pride in ilk heart, and joy in ilk e'e;
An' the auld, 'mang the nappy, their eild seemed to tine,
It was your stoup the nicht, an' the morn 'twas mine:
O! the days o' langsyne—O! the days o' langsyne.
| Poems and Songs | |