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Waes me for Johnny God's hole[1] new,
Quoth I, if that thae news be true!
His braw calf-ward. whare gowans grew
Sae white and bonny,
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plow;
They'll ruin Johnny!
Quoth I, if that thae news be true!
His braw calf-ward. whare gowans grew
Sae white and bonny,
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plow;
They'll ruin Johnny!
The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh,
And says, Ye needa yoke the plough,
Kirkyards will soon be till'd enough,
Tak ye nae fear:
They'll a' be treach'd wi' mony a sheugh,
In twa-three year.
And says, Ye needa yoke the plough,
Kirkyards will soon be till'd enough,
Tak ye nae fear:
They'll a' be treach'd wi' mony a sheugh,
In twa-three year.
Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death,
By loss o' blude, or want o' breath,
This night I'ın free to tak my aith,
That Hornbook's skill
Has clad a score i' their last claith,
By drap and pill.
By loss o' blude, or want o' breath,
This night I'ın free to tak my aith,
That Hornbook's skill
Has clad a score i' their last claith,
By drap and pill.
An honest, wabster to his trade,
Wha's wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred,
Gat tippence worth to mend her head,
When it was sair;
The wife slade cannie to her bed,
But ne'er spak mair!
Wha's wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred,
Gat tippence worth to mend her head,
When it was sair;
The wife slade cannie to her bed,
But ne'er spak mair!
A countra Laird had taen the bats,
Or some curmurring in his gats,
His only son for Hornbook sets,
And pays him well;
Or some curmurring in his gats,
His only son for Hornbook sets,
And pays him well;
- ↑ The Grave-digger.
B2
