Volume Ii Part 71 (1/2)

Sair we'll muse at ane anither 'Tween the auld word an' new kiss!

Love I'm doobtin may be scanty Roun ye efter I'm awa: Yon kirkyard has happin plenty Close aside me, green an' braw!

An' abune there's room for mony; 'Twasna made for ane or twa, But was aye for a' an' ony Countin love the best ava.

There nane less ye'll be my father; Auld names we'll nor tyne nor spare!

A' my sons.h.i.+p I maun gather For the Son is king up there.

Greitna, father, that I'm gauin, For ye ken fu' well the gaet!

Here, in winter, cast yer sawin, There, in hairst, again ye hae't!

_I KEN SOMETHING._

What gars ye sing sae, birdie, As gien ye war lord o' the lift?

On breid ye're an unco sma' lairdie, But in hicht ye've a kingly gift!

A' ye hae to c.o.o.nt yersel rich in 'S a wee mawn o' glory-motes!

The whilk to the throne ye're aye hitchin Wi a lang tow o' sapphire notes!

Ay, yer sang's the sang o' an angel For a sinfu' thrapple no meet, Like the pipes til a heavenly braingel Whaur they dance their herts intil their feet!