Thaim that socht eftir me noo flee awa,
Thaim that cam creepin barfit i the snaw.
Ah kent them gentil, meek an kind,
That noo are wild, an dinna mind
Hoo aince they pit themsels at risk
Fur crumbs o mine – an noo they whisk
Awa at sicht o me.
Oh there wis ane that whiles wid bide
When aa the lave were gane, aye at ma side,
Till ae nicht, when the warld wis sweet wi wine,
She took the fuuness o the Mune fur sign,
An loosen’t aa her hair, an lit it faa,
An held oot baith her airms white an smaa,
Syne kiss’t me, oh sae hinny-licht,
An naethin sall surpass thon nicht.
It wis nae dream: Ah mind, an aye-ways will,
Hoo sweet she slept, an me aye waukin still.
Bit Ah hae bin ower blate sinsyne:
The bonnie bird’s nae langer mine.
She taks her leave, maks fur the lift,
Bit sings sae sweetly in her flicht …
Hoo is it she maun flee wi hert sae free,
An aa the hurt o it is left tae me?
(After an original by Sir Thomas Wyatt)