13
The timmer ran done wi' the making o' coffins,
Kirkyards o' their sward were a' howkit fu' clean,
Dead lovers were paekit like herring in barrels,
Sic thousands were dying for Barrochan Jean.
But mony braw thanks to the Laird o' Glen-Brodie,
The grass owre their groffs is now bonnie and green
Be sta' the proud heart of our wanton young lady,
And spoil'd a' the charms o' her twa Pawky een.
Kirkyards o' their sward were a' howkit fu' clean,
Dead lovers were paekit like herring in barrels,
Sic thousands were dying for Barrochan Jean.
But mony braw thanks to the Laird o' Glen-Brodie,
The grass owre their groffs is now bonnie and green
Be sta' the proud heart of our wanton young lady,
And spoil'd a' the charms o' her twa Pawky een.
THE SUMMER GLOAMIN.
The midges dance aboon the burn,
The dew begins to fa',
The pairtricks, down the rushy howm,
Set up their e'ening ea';
Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang
Rings through the briery shaw,
While, fleeting gay, the swallows play
Around the castle wa'.
The dew begins to fa',
The pairtricks, down the rushy howm,
Set up their e'ening ea';
Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang
Rings through the briery shaw,
While, fleeting gay, the swallows play
Around the castle wa'.
Beneath the gowden gloaming sky
The mavis mends his lay,
The redbreast pours its sweetest strains,
To charm the lingering day;
While weary yeldrins seem to wail
Their little nestlings torn,
The merry wren, frae den to den,
Gaes jinking through the thorn.
The mavis mends his lay,
The redbreast pours its sweetest strains,
To charm the lingering day;
While weary yeldrins seem to wail
Their little nestlings torn,
The merry wren, frae den to den,
Gaes jinking through the thorn.
The roses fauld their silken leaves,
The foxglove shuts its bell,
The honey-suckle and the birk
Spread fragrance through the dell.
Let others crowd the giddy court
Of mirth and revelry,
The simple joys that nature yields
Are dearer far to me.
The foxglove shuts its bell,
The honey-suckle and the birk
Spread fragrance through the dell.
Let others crowd the giddy court
Of mirth and revelry,
The simple joys that nature yields
Are dearer far to me.
