There's a lad aye roamin' when the day gets late,
A lang-leggit deevil wi' his hand upon the gate,
And aye the guidwife cries to him to gar the toddie fa',
For she canna thole to let her deuks an' hens awa'--
Aye, the muckle bubbly-jock himsel' is ca'd awa'!

The laddie saw the tod gang by an' killed him wi' a stane
And the bonnie lass that grat sae sair she sabs nae mair her lane,
But the guidwife's no contentit yet, her like ye never saw!
Cries she--"This time it is the lass, an' _she's_ awa'!
Aye, yon laddie's waur nor ony tod, for Bell's awa'!"




THE BLIND SHEPHERD


The land is white, an' far awa'
Abune ae bush an' tree
Nae fit is movin' i' the snaw
On the hills I canna see;
For the sun may shine an' the darkness fa',
But aye it's nicht to me.

I hear the whaup on windy days
Cry up amang the peat
Whaur, on the road that speels the braes,
I've heard my ain sheep's feet,