BALLADE OF THE TWEED.
Reading edition
(LOWLAND SCOTCH.)
TO T. W. LANG.
The ferox rins in rough Loch Awe, A weary cry frae ony toun; The Spey, that loups o’er linn and fa’, They praise a’ ither streams aboon; They boast their braes o’ bonny Doon: Gie me to hear the ringing reel, Where shilfas sing, and cushats croon By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel!
There’s Ettrick, Meggat, Ail, and a’, Where trout swim thick in May and June; Ye’ll see them take in showers o’ snaw Some blinking, cauldrife April noon: Rax ower the palmer and march-broun, And syne we’ll show a bonny creel, In spring or simmer, late or soon, By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel!
There’s mony a water, great or sma’, Gaes singing in his siller tune, Through glen and heugh, and hope and shaw, Beneath the sun-licht or the moon: But set us in our fishing-shoon Between the Caddon-burn and Peel, And syne we’ll cross the heather broun By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel!
ENVOY.
Deil take the dirty, trading loon Wad gar the water ca’ his wheel, And drift his dyes and poisons doun By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel!