Songs of Angus and More Songs of Angus Part 4

I gi'ed my love the white white rose That's at my feyther's wa', It is the bonniest flower that grows Whaur ilka flower is braw; There's but ae bonnier that I ken Frae Perth unto the main, An' that's the flower o' Scotland's men That's fechtin' for his ain.

Gin I had kept whate'er was mine As I hae gie'd my best, My he'rt were licht by day, and syne The nicht wad bring me rest; There is nae heavier he'rt to find Frae Forfar toon to Ayr, As aye I sit me doon to mind On him I see nae mair.

Lad, gin ye fa' by Chairlie's side To rid this land o' shame, There winna be a prooder bride Than her ye left at hame, But I will seek ye whaur ye sleep Frae lawlands to the peat, An ilka nicht at mirk I'll creep To lay me at yer feet.

MAGGIE

Maggie, I ken that ye are happ'd in glory And nane can gar ye greet; The joys o' Heaven are evermair afore ye, It's licht about yer feet.

I ken nae waefu' thochts can e'er be near ye Nor sorrow fash yer mind, In yon braw place they winna let ye weary For him ye left behind.

Thae nichts an' days when dule seems mair nor double I'll need to dae my best, For aye ye took the half o' ilka trouble, And noo I'd hae ye rest.

Yer he'rt'll be the same he'rt since yer flittin', Gin auld love doesna tire, Sae dinna look an' see yer lad that's sittin'

His lane aside the fire.

The sky is keen wi' dancin' stars in plenty, The New Year frost is strang; But, O my la.s.s! because the Auld Year kent ye I'm sweir to let it gang!

But time drives forrit; and on ilk December There waits a New Year yet, An naething bides but what our he'rts remember-- Maggie, ye'll na forget?

THE WHUSTLIN' LAD

There's a wind comes doon frae the braes when the licht is spreadin'

Chilly an' grey, An' the auld c.o.c.k craws at the yett o' the muirland steadin'

Cryin' on day; The hoose lies sound an' the sma' mune's deein' an' weary Watchin' her lane, The shadows creep by the d.y.k.e an' the time seems eerie, But the lad i' the fields he is whustlin' cheery, cheery, 'Yont i' the rain.

My mither stirs as she wauks wi' her twa een blinkin', Bedded she'll bide, For foo can an auld wife ken what a la.s.sie's thinkin'

Close at her side?

Mither, lie still, for ye're needin' a rest fu' sairly, Weary an' worn, Mither, I'll rise, an' ye ken I'll be warkin' fairly-- An' I dinna ken _wha_ can be whustlin', whustlin', aerly, Lang or it's morn!

Gin ye hear a sound like the sneck o' the backdoor turnin', Fash na for it; It's just the crack i' the lum o' the green wood burnin', Ill to be lit; Gin ye hear a step, it's the auld mear loose i' the stable Stampin' the strae, Or mysel' that's settin' the parritch-spunes on the table, Sae turn ye aboot an' sleep, mither, sleep while ye're able, Rest while ye may.

Up at the steadin' the trail o' the mist has lift.i.t Clear frae the grund, Mither breathes saft an' her face to the wa' she's shift.i.t-- Aye, but she's sound!

Lad, ye may come, for there's nane but mysel' will hear ye Oot by the stair, But whustle you on an' I winna hae need to fear ye, For, laddie, the lips that keep whustlin', whustlin' cheery Canna dae mair!

HOGMANAY

(TO A PIPE TUNE)

O, it's fine when the New and the Auld Year meet, An' the lads gang roarin' i' the licht.i.t street, An' there's me and there's Alick an' the miller's loon, An' Geordie that's the piper oot o' Forfar toon.

Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!

Up wi' the chanter, lad, an' gie's a blaw!

For we'll step to the tune while we've feet in till oor shune, Tho' the bailies an' the provost be to sort us a'!

We've three bonnie bottles, but the third ane's toom, Gin' the road ran whisky, it's mysel' wad soom!

But we'll stan' while we can, an' be dancin' while we may, For there's twa we hae to finish, an' it's Hogmanay.

Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!

There's an auld carle glow'rin' oot ahint yon wa', But we'll sune gar him loup to the pipin' till he coup, For we'll gi'e him just a drappie, an' he'll no say na!

My heid's dement.i.t an' my feet's the same, When they'll no wark thegither it's a lang road hame; An' we've twa mile to traivel or it's mair like three, But I've got a grip o' Alick, an' ye'd best grip me.

Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!

The morn's near brakin' an' we'll need awa', Gin ye're aye blawin' strang, then we'll maybe get alang, An' the deevil tak' the laddie that's the first to fa'!

CRAIGO WOODS

Craigo Woods, wi' the splash o' the cauld rain beatin'

I' the back end o' the year, When the clouds hang laigh wi' the weicht o' their load o' greetin'

And the autumn wind's asteer; Ye may stand like gaists, ye may fa' i' the blast that's cleft ye To rot i' the chilly dew, But when will I mind on aucht since the day I left ye Like I mind on you--on you?

Craigo Woods, i' the licht o' September sleepin'

And the saft mist o' the morn, When the hairst climbs to yer feet, an' the sound o' reapin'

Comes up frae the stookit corn, And the braw reid puddock-stules are like jewels blinkin'

And the bramble happs ye baith, O what do I see, i' the lang nicht, lyin' an' thinkin'

As I see yer wraith--yer wraith?

There's a road to a far-aff land, an' the land is yonder Whaur a' men's hopes are set; We dinna ken foo lang we maun hae to wander, But we'll a' win to it yet; An' gin there's woods o' fir an' the licht atween them, I winna speir its name, But I'll lay me doon by the puddock-stules when I've seen them, An' I'll cry "I'm hame--I'm hame!"

THE WILD GEESE

"O tell me what was on yer road, ye roarin' norlan' Wind, As ye cam' blawin' frae the land that's niver frae my mind?

My feet they traivel England, but I'm dee'in for the north."

"My man, I heard the siller tides rin up the Firth o' Forth."

"Aye, Wind, I ken them weel eneuch, and fine they fa' an' rise, And fain I'd feel the creepin' mist on yonder sh.o.r.e that lies, But tell me, ere ye pa.s.sed them by, what saw ye on the way?"

"My man, I rocked the rovin' gulls that sail abune the Tay."

"But saw ye naething, leein' Wind, afore ye cam' to Fife?

There's muckle lyin' 'yont the Tay that's mair to me nor life."

"My man, I swept the Angus braes ye hae'na trod for years."