The Road’s End

Ower the hills by Lauderdale
The road swings lang and free;
And, eastart by Pencaitland,
It brings ye to the sea;
By Dalkeith and the northart
There’s mony a break and bend;
But the road that gangs by Crichton
Has a kirkyaird at the end.

Ye may take the road by Lauderdale,
Where hills and muirs are free;
Or, eastart by Pencaitland,
The gold rim o’ the sea;
Or, north, among the Hieland hills,
Your wand’ring feet may wend –
They’re jist roond-aboots to Crichton,
Wi’ a kirkyaird at the end.