THE DOO'UCOT UP THE BRAES


Beside the doo'cot up the braes
The fields slope doon frae me,
An fine's the glint on blawin' days
O' the bonnie plains o' sea.

Below's my mither's hoosie sma',
The smiddy by the byre
Whaur aye my feyther dings awa'
And my brither blaws the fire.

For Lachlan lo'es the smiddy's reek,
An' Geordie's but a fule
Wha' drives the plough his breid to seek,
And Rob's to teach the schule;

He'll haver roond the schulehoose wa's,
And ring the schulehoose bell,
He'll skelp the scholars wi' the tawse
(I'd like that fine mysel'!)

They're easy pleased, my brithers three--
I hate the smiddy's lowe,
A weary dominie I'd be,