The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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The Auld Man's Fareweel to his Wee House.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
The Auld Man's Fareweel to his Wee House.
I like ye weel, my wee auld house,
Though laigh the wa's an' flat the riggin';
Though round thy lum the sourick grows,
An' rain-draps gaw my cozy biggin'.
Though laigh the wa's an' flat the riggin';
Though round thy lum the sourick grows,
An' rain-draps gaw my cozy biggin'.
Lang hast thou happit mine an' me,
My head's grown gray aneath thy kipple;
An' aye thy ingle cheek was free
Baith to the blind man an' the cripple:
My head's grown gray aneath thy kipple;
An' aye thy ingle cheek was free
Baith to the blind man an' the cripple:
An' to the puir forsaken wight
Wi' bairnie at her bosom cryin',
My cot was open day an' night,
Nor wanted bed for sick to lie in.
Wi' bairnie at her bosom cryin',
My cot was open day an' night,
Nor wanted bed for sick to lie in.
What gart my ewes thrive on the hill,
An' kept my little store increasin'?—
The rich man never wished me ill,
The puir man left me aye his blessin'.
An' kept my little store increasin'?—
The rich man never wished me ill,
The puir man left me aye his blessin'.
Troth, I maun greet wi' thee to part,
Though to a better house I'm flittin';
Sic joys will never glad my heart
As I've had by thy hallan sittin'.
Though to a better house I'm flittin';
Sic joys will never glad my heart
As I've had by thy hallan sittin'.
My bonnie bairns around me smiled;
My sonsie wife sat by me spinnin',
Aye liltin' owre her ditties wild,
In notes sae artless and sae winnin'.
My sonsie wife sat by me spinnin',
Aye liltin' owre her ditties wild,
In notes sae artless and sae winnin'.
Our frugal meal was aye a feast;
Our e'enin' psalm a hymn of joy:
Aye calm an' peacefu' was our rest;
Our bliss, our love without alloy.
Our e'enin' psalm a hymn of joy:
Aye calm an' peacefu' was our rest;
Our bliss, our love without alloy.
I canna help but haud thee dear,
My auld, storm-battered hamely sheilin';
Thy sooty lum an' kipples clear
I better lo'e than gaudy ceilin'.
My auld, storm-battered hamely sheilin';
Thy sooty lum an' kipples clear
I better lo'e than gaudy ceilin'.
Thy roof will fa', thy rafters start,
How damp an' cauld thy hearth will be!
Ah, sae will soon ilk honest heart,
That erst was blithe an' bauld in thee.
How damp an' cauld thy hearth will be!
Ah, sae will soon ilk honest heart,
That erst was blithe an' bauld in thee.
I thought to cower aneath thy wa',
Till death had closed my weary e'en;
Then left thee for the narrow ha',
Wi' lowly roof o' swaird sae green.
Till death had closed my weary e'en;
Then left thee for the narrow ha',
Wi' lowly roof o' swaird sae green.
Fareweel, my house an' burnie clear,
My bourtree bush an' bowzy tree;
The wee while I maun sojourn here,
I'll never find a hame like thee!
My bourtree bush an' bowzy tree;
The wee while I maun sojourn here,
I'll never find a hame like thee!
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |