Classic Poem

A Deidly Hunger

Alane, alas! I lie my lane —
There 's nane comes nigh to speir me.
If they but kent I lie sae fain,
Guid faith they 'd süne draw near me.

I turn an' toss the weary nicht
In fear nae man may seek me,
And yet I ken me straucht an' richt —
A maid for him shall streek me.

There 's Lady Jean — the spavined thing!
She nichers like our aver;
The wee Sir John gied her a ring,
An' Lord! — the hie palaver!

Then coo-hocht Bess — the vulgar quean!
Wi' hips would daunt a plooman;
The whey-faced parson seeks her keen —
Vows " she 's a splendid woman " !

And Nelly Scott — O sleekit Nell! —
As deep 's the cat an' silent;
She draws them a' wi' magic fell —
Her look has sic a wile in 't.

But shürely ane maun be for me? —
Ane naither auld nor shorty —
I'm shüre as fair as some I see
And naither sour nor dorty.

But or he come I think I 'll dee,
For love 's a deidly hunger;
Baith day an' nicht it gnaws at me
And I grow nane the younger.English