THE HEID HORSEMAN

O Alec, up at Soutar's fairm,

You, that's sae licht o’ he'rt,

I ken ye passin’ by the tune

Ye whustle i’ the cairt;

I hear the rowin’ o’ the wheels,

The clink o’ haims an’ chain,

And set abune yer stampin’ team

I see ye sit yer lane.

Ilk morn, agin’ the kindlin’ sky

Yer liftit heid is black,

Ilk nicht I watch ye hameward ride

Wi’ the sunset at yer back.

For wark's yer meat and wark's yer play,

Heid horseman tho’ ye be,

Ye've ne'er a glance for wife nor maid,

Ye tak nae tent o’ me.

An’ man, ye'll no suspec’ the truth,

Tho’ weel I ken it's true,

There's mony ane that trails in silk

Wha fain wad gang wi’ you.

But I am just a serving lass,

Wha toils to get her breid,

An’ O! ye're sweir to see the gowd

I braid about my heid.

My cheek is like the brier rose,

That scents the simmer wind,

An fine I'd keep the wee bit hoose,

‘ Gin I'd a man to mind!

It's sair to see, when ilka lad

Is dreamin’ o’ his joe,

The bonnie mear that leads yer team

Is a’ ye're thinkin’ o’.

Like fire upon her satin coat

Ye gar the harness shine,

But, lad, there is a safter licht

In thae twa een o’ mine!

Aye — wark yer best — but youth is short,

An’ shorter ilka year —

There's ane wad gar ye sune forget

Yon limmer o’ a mear!