Poems by Robert Nicoll Second edition: with numerous additions, and a memoir of the author |
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 | IV. |
THE HERD LASSIE. |
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 | Poems by Robert Nicoll |  |
THE HERD LASSIE.
I'm fatherless and motherless,
There's nane on earth to care for me;
And sair and meikle are the waes
That in the warld I maun dree.
For I maun work a stranger's wark,
And sit beside a stranger's fire;
And cauld and hunger I maun thole
From day to day, and never tire!
There's nane on earth to care for me;
And sair and meikle are the waes
That in the warld I maun dree.
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And sit beside a stranger's fire;
And cauld and hunger I maun thole
From day to day, and never tire!
And I maun herd frae morn to e'en,
Though sleety rain upon me fa';
And never murmur or complein—
And be at ilka body's ca'.
I needna deck my gowden hair,
Nor make mysel' so fair to see;
For I'm an orphan lassie poor—
And wha would look or care for me?
Though sleety rain upon me fa';
And never murmur or complein—
And be at ilka body's ca'.
I needna deck my gowden hair,
Nor make mysel' so fair to see;
For I'm an orphan lassie poor—
And wha would look or care for me?
The lave ha'e mothers good and kind,
And joyfu' is ilk daughter's heart;
The lave ha'e brothers stieve and strang,
To haud ilk loving sister's part.
But I'm a poor man's orphan bairn,
And to the ground I laigh maun bow;
And were it nae a sinfu' wish,
Oh, I could wish the world through!
And joyfu' is ilk daughter's heart;
The lave ha'e brothers stieve and strang,
To haud ilk loving sister's part.
But I'm a poor man's orphan bairn,
And to the ground I laigh maun bow;
And were it nae a sinfu' wish,
Oh, I could wish the world through!
The caller summer morning brings
Some joy to this wae heart o' mine;
But I the joy of life would leave,
If I could wi' it sorrow tine.
My mother said, in Heaven's bliss
E'en puir herd lassies had a share:
I wish I were where mother is—
Her orphan then would greet nae mair!
Some joy to this wae heart o' mine;
But I the joy of life would leave,
If I could wi' it sorrow tine.
My mother said, in Heaven's bliss
E'en puir herd lassies had a share:
I wish I were where mother is—
Her orphan then would greet nae mair!
| Poems by Robert Nicoll | |