 | Poems and Songs |  |
70
My ailing Bairn.
Oh! mony a weary waukrife nicht
Thy troubles, bairn, hae cost me,
An' aft I feared the morning licht
Would come nae ere we lost thee.
Though Winter sware nae ruth nor care
Frae's eastlin' blasts would shield thee,
Thou'rt todlin' yet, though weak a-foot,
Wi' mither's love to bield thee.
Thy troubles, bairn, hae cost me,
An' aft I feared the morning licht
Would come nae ere we lost thee.
Though Winter sware nae ruth nor care
Frae's eastlin' blasts would shield thee,
Thou'rt todlin' yet, though weak a-foot,
Wi' mither's love to bield thee.
The robin in the lonesome wood
His wooer-sang sings rarely;
The lav'rock through the laigh grey clud
Salutes at morning early;
An' here and there, on haigh and muir,
Are weary peesweeps lichtin—
They come to see thy sickly ee,
My ailin' bairnie, brichten.
His wooer-sang sings rarely;
The lav'rock through the laigh grey clud
Salutes at morning early;
An' here and there, on haigh and muir,
Are weary peesweeps lichtin—
They come to see thy sickly ee,
My ailin' bairnie, brichten.
71
The snaw yet haps the nor'lan' hills,
As winter like as can be;
But yesterday the glens and rills
Wi' ice were glistering grandly;
Noo, in the dell, the sauch-buds tell
That Winter's sceptre's broken,
And blythe to me o' health for thee,
My ailing bairn, hae spoken.
As winter like as can be;
But yesterday the glens and rills
Wi' ice were glistering grandly;
Noo, in the dell, the sauch-buds tell
That Winter's sceptre's broken,
And blythe to me o' health for thee,
My ailing bairn, hae spoken.
King Frost lay lang amang oor glens,
'Mang ice and cranreuch dreamin',
But noo he's seen, on distant Bens,
In snowy robes far gleamin'.
And ere again he comes to reign,
Wi' blustering, chilling, clangour,
We'll win thee wealth o' ruddy health,
An' dread his wrath nae langer.
'Mang ice and cranreuch dreamin',
But noo he's seen, on distant Bens,
In snowy robes far gleamin'.
And ere again he comes to reign,
Wi' blustering, chilling, clangour,
We'll win thee wealth o' ruddy health,
An' dread his wrath nae langer.
I ken whare first in shelter'd howes
The celandine will waken;
I ken whare first on sunny knowes
Uncoils the silken bracken;
An' thee, my bairn, wi' pride I'll learn
To lisp in sang their praises:
To find thysel' the pale harebell,
And busk the thorn wi' daisies.
The celandine will waken;
I ken whare first on sunny knowes
Uncoils the silken bracken;
72
To lisp in sang their praises:
To find thysel' the pale harebell,
And busk the thorn wi' daisies.
Thy lily cheek, when June shall see,
She'll spread wi' reddest roses,
And berry-broon thy hauns shall be
Before the autumn closes.
The constant fear, the frequent tear,
Thy mirth and bloom shall banish;
For wha could dream this sweet hope-gleam
May wi' the flower-time vanish.
She'll spread wi' reddest roses,
And berry-broon thy hauns shall be
Before the autumn closes.
The constant fear, the frequent tear,
Thy mirth and bloom shall banish;
For wha could dream this sweet hope-gleam
May wi' the flower-time vanish.
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