The wind may blaw the lee-gang way And aye the lift be mirk an’ gray, An deep the moss and steigh the brae Where a’ maun gang— There’s still an hoor in ilka day For luve and sang.
And canty hearts are strangely steeled. By some dikeside they’ll find a bield, Some couthy neuk by muir or field They’re sure to hit, Where, frae the blatherin’ wind concealed, They’ll rest a bit.
An’ weel for them if kindly fate Send ower the hills to them a mate; They’ll crack a while o’ kirk an’ State, O’ yowes an’ rain: An’ when it’s time to take the gate, Tak’ ilk his ain.
—Sic neuk beside the southern sea I soucht—sic place o’ quiet lee Frae a’ the winds o’ life. To me, Fate, rarely fair, Had set a freendly company To meet me there.
Kindly by them they gart me sit, An’ blythe was I to bide a bit. Licht as o’ some hame fireside lit My life for me. —Ower early maun I rise an’ quit This happy lee.