The Fiddler

The Fiddler
A fine player was he ...
‘Twas the heather at my knee,
The Lang Hill o’ Fare
An’ a reid rose-tree,
A bonnie dryin’ green,
Wind fae aff the braes,
Liftin’ and shiftin’
The clear-bleached claes.

Syne he played again ...
‘Twas dreep, dreep o’ rain,
A bairn at the breist
An’ a warm hearth-stane,
Fire o’ the peat,
Scones o’ barley meal
An’ the whirr, whirr, whirr,
O’ a spinnin’-wheel.

Bit aye, wae’s me!
The hindmaist tune he made ...
‘Twas juist a dune wife
Greetin’ in her plaid,
Winds o’ a’ the years,
Naked wa’s atween,
And heather creep, creepin’
Ower the bonnie dryin’ green.
Marion Angus

from The Tinker’s Road and other verses (Glasgow: Gowans & Grey, 1924), and included in The Singin Lass: selected work of Marion Angus, edited by Aimée Chalmers (Polygon, 2006)

Reproduced by permission of the Estate of Marion Angus.
Marion Angus

Coming late in her life to poetry, Marion Angus wrote during the 1920s, frequently in her native Scots, poems  suggesting social and emotional rejection, and on the ballad-themes of lost love and unquiet spirits. 

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