Songs of Angus and More Songs of Angus | Page 3

fades the deein' licht, I think I hear my ain twa men come up the road at nicht,?But him that bides the nearest seems the furthest aye frae me-- And it's lang, lang listenin' till I hear the three!
THE BEADLE O' DRUMLEE
Them that's as highly placed as me?(Wha am the beadle o' Drumlee)?Should na be prood, nor yet owre free.
Me an' the meenister, ye ken,?Are no the same as a' thae men?We hae for neebours i' the glen.
The Lord gie'd him some lairnin' sma'?An me guid sense abune them a',?An them nae wuts to ken wha's wha.
Ye'd think, to hear the lees they tell,?The Sawbath day could mind itsel'?Withoot a hand to rug the bell,
Ye'd think the Reverend Paitrick Broun?Could ca' the Bible up an' doon?An' loup his lane in till his goon.
Whiles, gin he didna get frae me?The wicelike wird I weel can gie,?Whaur wad the puir bit callant be?
The elders, Ross an' Weellum Aird,?An' fowk like Alexander Caird,?That think they're cocks o' ilka yaird,
Fegs aye! they'd na be sweir to rule?A lad sae newly frae the schule?Gin my auld bonnet crooned a fule!
But oh! Jehovah's unco' kind!?Whaur wad this doited pairish find?A man wi' sic a powerfu' mind?
Sae, let the pairish sleep at nicht?Blind wi' the elders' shinin' licht,?Nor ken wha's hand keeps a' things richt.
It's what they canna understan'?That brains hae ruled since time began,?An' that the beadle is the man!
THE WATER-HEN
As I gae'd doon by the twa mill dams i' the mornin'?The water-hen cam' oot like a passin' wraith?And her voice cam' through the reeds wi' a sound of warnin',
"Faith--keep faith!"?"Aye, bird, tho' ye see but ane ye may cry on baith!"
As I gae'd doon the field when the dew was lyin',?My ain love stood whaur the road an' the mill-lade met,?An it seemed to me that the rowin' wheel was cryin',
"Forgi'e--forget,?An turn, man, turn, for ye ken that ye lo'e her yet!"
As I gae'd doon the road 'twas a weary meetin',?For the ill words said yest're'en they were aye the same,?And my het he'rt drouned the wheel wi' its heavy beatin'.
"Lass, think shame,?It's no for me to speak, for it's you to blame!"
As I gae'd doon by the toon when the day was springin'?The Baltic brigs lay thick by the soundin' quay?And the riggin' hummed wi' the sang that the wind was singin',
"Free--gang free,?For there's mony a load on shore may be skailed at sea!"

When I cam' hame wi' the thrang o' the years 'ahint me?There was naucht to see for the weeds and the lade in spate, But the water-hen by the dams she seemed aye to mind me,
Cryin' "Hope--wait!"?"Aye, bird, but my een grow dim, an' it's late--late!"
THE HEID HORSEMAN
O Alec, up at Soutar's fairm,?You, that's sae licht o' he'rt,?I ken ye passin' by the tune?Ye whustle i' the cairt;
I hear the rowin' o' the wheels,?The clink o' haims an' chain,?And set abune yer stampin' team?I see ye sit yer lane.
Ilk morn, agin' the kindlin' sky?Yer liftit heid is black,?Ilk nicht I watch ye hameward ride?Wi' the sunset at yer back.
For wark's yer meat and wark's yer play,?Heid horseman tho' ye be,?Ye've ne'er a glance for wife nor maid,?Ye tak nae tent o' me.
An' man, ye'll no suspec' the truth,?Tho' weel I ken it's true,?There's mony ane that trails in silk?Wha fain wad gang wi' you.
But I am just a serving lass,?Wha toils to get her breid,?An' O! ye're sweir to see the gowd?I braid about my heid.
My cheek is like the brier rose,?That scents the simmer wind,?An fine I'd keep the wee bit hoose,?'Gin I'd a man to mind!
It's sair to see, when ilka lad?Is dreamin' o' his joe,?The bonnie mear that leads yer team?Is a' ye're thinkin' o'.
Like fire upon her satin coat?Ye gar the harness shine,?But, lad, there is a safter licht?In thae twa een o' mine!
Aye--wark yer best--but youth is short,?An' shorter ilka year--?There's ane wad gar ye sune forget?Yon limmer o' a mear!
JEEMSIE MILLER
There's some that mak' themsels a name?Wi' preachin', business, or a game,?There's some wi' drink hae gotten fame?And some wi' siller:?I kent a man got glory cheap,?For nane frae him their een could keep,?Losh! he was shapit like a neep,?Was Jeemsie Miller!
When he gaed drivin' doon the street?Wi' cairt an' sheltie, a' complete,?The plankie whaur he had his seat?Was bent near double;?And gin yon wood had na been strang?It hadna held oor Jeemsie lang,?He had been landit wi' a bang,?And there'd been trouble.
Ye could but mind, to see his face,?The reid mune glowerin' on the place,?Nae man had e'er sic muckle space?To haud his bonnet:?An owre yon bonnet on his brow,?Set cockit up owre Jeemsie's pow,?There waggit, reid as lichtit tow,?The toorie on it.
And Jeemsie's poke was brawly lined,?There wasna mony couldna' find?His cantie hoosie i' the wynd,?"The Salutation":?For there ye'd get, wi' sang and