Classic Poem

O that I were the wee herd loon
That basks upo' yon sunny lea!
Ilk ither wish I wad lay doon,
A laddie herdin' kye to be

I'd lose the little lear' I ha'e,
And learn the herdie's simple arts—
To build a housie 'mang the strae;
To mak' wee neep and tawtie carts;

To mak' a kep o' rashies green,
And learn the herdie's gleesome lauch;
To mak' a rattle for the wean,
Or cut a whistle o' the sauch;

To licht a fire upon the muir,
That a' the herdies may sit doon;
Or set the whins on bleezin' fire,
That a' the herdies may rin roun';

To plait a whup for drivin' kye,
And learn the herdie's sangs to sing,
And wi' the herdie's hooin' cry,
Gar a' the echoing woodlands ring;

To climb the green-wood trees sae high,
And shogin' sit amang the boughs,
And watch the birdies flitting bye,
Or mark the burnie as it rows;

To mak' wind-mills and water-wheels;
To be ilk thing that's herdie like—
A wee-thing fear'd o' ghaists and de'ils,
Or onie ither uncannie tyke;—

Get shoon wi' clampit heels and taes,
And five fu' rows o' muckle tackets;
Corduroy and fustian claes,
Wi' pouches fu' o' queer nick-nackets

O blithesome are the herdie's ways!
I had a wee, wee tastin' o' them;
But Time's a flood that never stays—
A flood that beats mankind to fathom,—
It wafted me frae herdin' days
Ere I was weel begun to know them!