The Field by the Lirk o’ the Hill - by
Daytime an’ nicht,
Sun, wind an’ rain;
The lang, cauld licht
O’ the spring months again.
Daytime an’ nicht,
Sun, wind an’ rain;
The lang, cauld licht
O’ the spring months again.
Ye’d wonder foo the seasons rin
This side o’ Tweed an’ Tyne;
The hairst’s awa’; October-month
Cam in a whilie syne,
But the stooks are oot in Scotland yet
I go North to cold, to home, to Kinnaird,
/ Fit monument for our time.
/
/ This is the outermost edge of Buchan.
/ Inland…
My house
/ Is granite
/ It fronts
/ North,
/
/ Where the Firth flows,
/ East the sea.
/ My room
/ Holds the first
/
/ Blow from the North,
/ The first from East,
/ Salt upon…
He cut a sappy sucker from the muckle rodden-tree,
/ He trimmed it, an’ he wet it, an’ he thumped it on…