THE KELPIE

I’m feared o’ the road ayont the glen, I’m sweir to pass the place Whaur the water’s rinnin’, for a’ fowk ken There’s a kelpie sits at the fit o’ the den, And there’s them that’s seen his face. But whiles he watches an’ whiles he hides And whiles, gin na wind manes, Ye can hear him roarin’ frae whaur he bides An’ the soond o’ him splashin’ agin the sides O’ the rocks an’ the muckle stanes. When the mune gaes doon at the arn-tree’s back In a wee, wee weary licht, My bed-claes up to my lugs I tak’, For I mind the swirl o’ the water black An’ the cry i’ the fearsome nicht. And lang an’ fell is yon road to me As I come frae the schule; I duarna think what I’m like to see When dark fa’s airly on buss an’ tree At Martinmas and Yule. Aside the crusie[11] my mither reads, “My bairn,” says she, “ye’ve heard The Lord is mindfu’ o’ a’ oor needs An’ His shield an’ buckler’s abune the heids O’ them that keeps His word.” But I’m a laddie that’s no that douce, An’ fechtin’s a bonnie game; The dominie’s pawmies[12] are little use, An’ mony’s the Sawbath I’m rinnin’ loose When a’body thinks I’m hame! Dod, noo we’re nearin’ the shorter days, It’s cannie I’ll hae to gang, An’ keep frae fechtin’ an’ sic-like ways, And no be tearin’ my Sawbath claes Afore that the nichts grow lang. Richt guid an’ couthie I’ll need to be, (But it’s leein’ to say I’m glad), I ken there’s troubles that fowk maun dree, An’ the kelpie’s no like to shift for me, Sae, gin thae warlocks are fear’d o’ Thee, Lord, mak’ me a better lad!