Fash na for it;
It's just the crack i' the lum o' the green wood burnin',
Ill to be lit;
Gin ye hear a step, it's the auld mear loose i' the stable
Stampin' the strae,
Or mysel' that's settin' the parritch-spunes on the table,
Sae turn ye aboot an' sleep, mither, sleep while ye're able,
Rest while ye may.

Up at the steadin' the trail o' the mist has liftit
Clear frae the grund,
Mither breathes saft an' her face to the wa' she's shiftit--
Aye, but she's sound!
Lad, ye may come, for there's nane but mysel' will hear ye
Oot by the stair,
But whustle you on an' I winna hae need to fear ye,
For, laddie, the lips that keep whustlin', whustlin' cheery
Canna dae mair!




HOGMANAY

(TO A PIPE TUNE)


O, it's fine when the New and the Auld Year meet,
An' the lads gang roarin' i' the lichtit street,
An' there's me and there's Alick an' the miller's loon,