Volume Ii Part 61 (1/2)
Johnnie turned and left her, List.i.t for the war; In a year cam limpin Hame wi' mony a scar.
Wha was that was sittin On the brae, sae still?
Worn and wan and altert, Could it be hersel?
Cled in black, her eelids Reid wi' greitin sair-- Was she wife and widow In a towmond bare?
Mally's hert played wallop, Kenned him or he spak: ”Are ye no deid, Johnnie?
Is't yersel come back?”
”Are ye wife or widow?
Tell me in a breath; Lanely life is fearsome, Waur nor ony death!”
”Wha cud be a widow Wife was never nane?
Noo, gien ye will hae me, Noo I will be ane!”
Crutch awa he flang it, Clean forgot his hairms, Cudna stan' withoot it, Fell in Mally's airms.
_GAEIN AND COMIN_.
Whan Andrew frae Strathbogie gaed The lift was lowerin dreary, The sun he wadna raise his heid, The win' blew laich and eerie.
In's pooch he had a plack or twa-- I vow he hadna mony, Yet Andrew like a linty sang, For Lizzie was sae bonny!
O Lizzie, Lizzie, bonny la.s.sie!
Bonny, saucy hizzy!
What richt had ye to luik at me And drive me daft and dizzy?
Whan Andrew to Strathbogie cam The sun was s.h.i.+nin rarely; He rade a horse that pranced and sprang-- I vow he sat him fairly!
And he had gowd to spen' and spare, And a hert as true as ony; But his luik was doon, his sigh was sair, For Lizzie was sae bonny!
O Lizzie, Lizzie, bonny hizzy!
Aih, the sunlicht weary!
Ye're straucht and rare--ye're fause though fair!-- Hech, auld John Armstrong's deary!
_A SANG O' ZION_.
Ane by ane they gang awa; The getherer gethers grit and sma': Ane by ane maks ane and a'!
Aye whan ane sets doon the cup Ane ahint maun tak it up: A' thegither they will sup!
Golden-heidit, ripe, and strang, Shorn will be the hairst or lang: Syne begins a better sang!
_TIME AND TIDE_.
As I was walkin on the strand, I spied ane auld man sit On ane auld black rock; and aye the waves Cam was.h.i.+n up its fit.
His lips they gaed as gien they wad lilt, But o' liltin, wae's me, was nane!
He spak but an owercome, dreary and dreigh, A burden wha's sang was gane: ”Robbie and Jeanie war twa bonnie bairns; They playt thegither i' the gloamin's hush: Up cam the tide and the mune and the sterns, And pairt.i.t the twa wi' a glint and a gush.”
”What can the auld man mean,” quod I, ”Sittin o' the auld black rock?
The tide creeps up wi' a moan and a cry, And a hiss 'maist like a mock!
The words he mutters maun be the en'