THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Reading edition
Abune the hill ae muckle star is burnin', Sae saft an' still, my dear, sae far awa, There's ne'er a wind, noo day to nicht is turnin', To lift the brainches o' the whisperin' shaw; Aye, Jess, there's nane to see, There's just the sheep an' me, And ane's fair wastit when there micht be twa!
Alang the knowes there's no a beast that's movin', They sheep o' mine lie sleepin' i' the dew; There's jist ae thing that's wearyin' an' rovin', An' that's mysel', that wearies, wantin' you. What ails ye, that ye bide In-by—an' me ootside To curse an' daunder a' the gloamin' through?
To haud my tongue an' aye hae patience wi' ye Is waur nor what a lass like you can guess; For a' yer pranks I canna but forgi'e ye, I'fegs! there's naucht can gar me lo'e ye less; Heaven's i' yer een, an' whiles There's heaven i' yer smiles, But oh! ye tak' a deal o' courtin', Jess!