Classic Poem

And fare ye weel, O fare ye weel!
My rhymin' games and ploys;
The time gangs by in blinks thae days—
There 's nane to spend on toys.

The road that cam' by woods an' glens
Wi' witchin' hills in view,
Is noo set oot 'tween grey stane dykes
Whaur little 's guid that 's new.

There 's dust an' drouth—whiles wind and rain,
And trees near Winter bare,
Green places nane, or thymie banks,
For soothe to them 's hert sair:

And nae gaun back or oot o' boun's—
Nae cheatin' what 's afore;
But what 's ahin' ye needna mind—
Ye 'll drap that at the door.