5
Neat her house, and, oh! to busk aye
Ilk sweet bairn was a’ her pride!
But at this time news and whisky
Sprang na up at ilk road side.
Luckless was the hour when Willie,
Horne returning frae the fair,
Owretook Tain, a neighbour billie,
Six miles frae their hame and mair.
Summer’s heat had lost its fury.
Calmly smiled the sober e’en;
Lasses on the bleachfield hurry,
Skelping barefoot owre the green.
Labour rang wi’ laugh and clatter,
Canty har’st has just begun,
And on mountain, tree, and water,
Glinted soft the setting sun.
Will and Tam, wi’ hearts a’ louping,
Marked the whole but couldna bide,
Tar frae hame, nae time for stopping,
Baith wished for their ain firesider.
On they travelled, warm and drouthy,
Cracking ower the news in town,
The mair they cracked, the mair ilk youthy
Frayed for drink to wash news down.
Fortune, wha but seldom listens
To poor merit’s modest prayer,
And on tools heaps needless blessings,
Hearkened to our drouthy pair.
In a holm, whose bonnie burnie
Whimpering rowed its crystal flood.
Near the road, where travellers turn aye,
Neat and beild, a cot-house stood.
