THE DAFT BIRD
When day is past an’ peace comes doon wi’ gloamin’
An’ twa by twa the young fowk pass the yett,
Auld stocks like me maun let their thochts content them,
Mindin’ o’ coortin’s that they’ll no forget.
Ye’re no sae far awa the nicht, my Marget,
Tho’ on the brae-heid, past the dyke ye lie,
Whaur ae daft bird is singin’ i’ the kirkyaird
And ae star watches i’ the evenin’ sky.
Late bird, daft bird, the likes o’ you are bedded,
The daylicht’s deid, it’s hame that ye should be,
Yer voice is naucht to them that canna hear ye;
But sing you on, it isna naucht to me.
Dod, like yersel’, it’s time that I was sleepin’,
Sae lang it is since Marget laid her doon,
And ilka year treids up ahint anither
Like evenin’s ghaist ahint the aifternoon.
For rest comes slaw to you an’ me, I’m thinkin’,
Oor day’s wark’s surely lang o’ wearin’ through,
The gloamin’s had been wearier an’ langer,
Thae nichts o’ June, late warker, wantin’ you.
I maun hae patience yet, I’ll no be grievin’,
There’s them that disna fail tho’ day be spent,
An’ yon daft bird’s aye singing i’ the kirkyaird—
Lord, I will bide my time, an’ bide content.