 | The poetical remains |  |
148
The Twa Sutors.
The wind roared up the Frith o' Forth,
Through continent and isle, man,
An' blew a lass frae Borro'ness
To bonny Aberfoyle, man.
Through continent and isle, man,
An' blew a lass frae Borro'ness
To bonny Aberfoyle, man.
A northern wind sometimes brings wae,
When young lambs feel its breath, man;
But this east wind, aweel a wat,
Has brought us muckle scaith, man.
When young lambs feel its breath, man;
But this east wind, aweel a wat,
Has brought us muckle scaith, man.
It's tined us o' our sutors baith,
In truth, we have but twa, man,
For ever since they've seen the lass
Nought have they done ava, man.
In truth, we have but twa, man,
For ever since they've seen the lass
Nought have they done ava, man.
They've quit their lingles an' their lasts,
Their awls an' rossin ends, man;
An' when we'll gang dry shod again,
The feint a body kens, man.
Their awls an' rossin ends, man;
An' when we'll gang dry shod again,
The feint a body kens, man.
149
Jamie does naething a' the day
But wander through the knowes, man,
An' seeks amang the deep peat hags
For a' the puir drooned ewes, man.
But wander through the knowes, man,
An' seeks amang the deep peat hags
For a' the puir drooned ewes, man.
Nae doot the love-lorn sutor sees
His emblem in the sheep, man,
Wha droons himsel' for sake o' love
In moss hags, dark and deep, man.
His emblem in the sheep, man,
Wha droons himsel' for sake o' love
In moss hags, dark and deep, man.
An' Robin roams frae tryste tae fair,
Where mony ane has bled, man,
An' cares nae if in Jean's behalf
His noblest blood be shed, man.
Where mony ane has bled, man,
An' cares nae if in Jean's behalf
His noblest blood be shed, man.
But I'll gang an' whisper in Jean's lug,
Sae tak' a gude advice, man,
An' toss a bawbee up for ane,
An' no be unco nice, man.
Sae tak' a gude advice, man,
An' toss a bawbee up for ane,
An' no be unco nice, man.
Then we'll get baith our sutors back,
When ilka thing's complete, man,
Sin' meet at Jeanie's wedding dance,
Wi' hail shoon on our feet, man.
When ilka thing's complete, man,
Sin' meet at Jeanie's wedding dance,
Wi' hail shoon on our feet, man.
| The poetical remains | |