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| IN a dull cobwebbed street of a Scotch town | |
| I knew a woman once—she died last year— | |
| The poorest, humblest of God’s creatures, she | |
| Had the great secret, and was happy here. | |
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| Her birth was Highland. As a comely girl— | 5 |
| She often told the tale—her lad had come, | |
| And out of the deep glen between the hills | |
| Had brought her with him to his city home. | |
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| “I laid my head upon the kist,” she’d say, | |
| “When we was merried, and the time drew on | 10 |
| For me to say farewell to all my folk | |
| To gae wi’ him the strange new way alone. | |
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| “‘Hout, tout,’ said Jean, ‘I niver seed the like, | |
| I niver seed you take on so before; | |
| Rise up, rise up, the goodman’s waitin’ you; | 15 |
| All these unclever ways ’ll vex him sore!’ | |
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| “‘But still I cried upon the kist,’ she’d say, | |
| Till Jamie came and led me right awa’. | |
| It’s a dour pleasurin’ is a wedding-day, | |
| Wi’ two strong loves a-pu’ing you in twa. | 20 |
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| “The bonny glen, the wee wee burnie’s face | |
| I couldn’t say farewell wi’out a tear; | |
| The hills and a’ the flowers were wide awake | |
| On thon sweet mornin’ o’ the youngling year. | |
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| “Maybe I think on these a great deal more, | 25 |
| Now that the dear ones a’ are gone to rest. | |
| That day I moaned like dove about her brood, | |
| As I lay sobbin’ on my mither’s breast. | |
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| “And oh for May and Angus—it was sair! | |
| Angus he hung about the place so dull, | 30 |
| And May and me—we never spake at a’ | |
| That last long week, when hearts were at the full. | |
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| “Like some great roses kept agin a show | |
| We durstn’t touch our hearts lest they should break, | |
| So each kept cheery in a cheerless way, | 35 |
| Tried to keep hearty for the other’s sake. | |
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| “I span a plaid,” she’d say, “in those old days, | |
| When we were courtin’, my dear lad and I, | |
| I span it green for the dear glen and trees, | |
| I span it blue for God Almighty’s sky; | 40 |
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| “I span a twist o’ red to run a’ through, | |
| To show my heart’s blood beating was for him— | |
| You’ll see the plaid upon the bed,” she’d say, | |
| “Although the bonnie colours are a’ dim. | |
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| “He wore it till he died. He liked his plaid; | 45 |
| And he’s been dead and gone these twenty years, | |
| And ever since it’s been upon my bed; | |
| It’s kept me warm, it’s dried a many tears. | |
| |
| “How do I fare? Oh, I—I fare right weel. | |
| I hae three pound a-year, and only me: | 50 |
| I niver had no bairns; and when he died, | |
| My man, he greets awhile, and says, says he, | |
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| “‘How’ll you fare, love, all left, and all alone?’ | |
| I couldn’t answer. But at last says I, | |
| ‘My dear, the God ’as kept us both at once | 55 |
| ’ll keep me easy now you’re goin’ on high.’ | |
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| “He’s kept me all along. I’ve got no needs, | |
| There’s room enow in here for only me; | |
| I has my three pounds regular: and I pays | |
| Into the coal club. I’ve enow for tea; | 60 |
| |
| “Only I need be very moderate. When I make | |
| A cup o’ tea, that’s two, because I swill | |
| The teapot out a second time, ye see; | |
| Oh, and I fares right well; I gets my fill. | |
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| “No, I don’t want for nothin’, though you’re kind; | 65 |
| My blankets they are thin—but there’s the plaid; | |
| I gets along right canty—gets to kirk | |
| Now and again on warm days. When I’m sad, | |
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| “And that’s not often, praise the Lord!—I go | |
| Awhiley down the street; and at the end | 70 |
| You’ll see a tree that’s bonny and that’s green, | |
| And that poor wee bit town-tree is my friend. | |
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| “For in these days, when I’m grown grey and bent, | |
| And a’ my kith and kin are gone to God, | |
| My mind keeps turnin’ to the glen I left | 75 |
| Forty long years ago. As through a cloud | |
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| “The things of later days go daze my brain, | |
| I’m no just clear about the how and when; | |
| But every stick and stone and bit o’ wall | |
| And every cranny in the bonny glen | 80 |
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| “Is plain afore me. I can think o’ him, | |
| My man, my sister May, and Angus too, | |
| And o’ my mither, wi’out e’er a tear— | |
| I know God keeps them that are leal and true. | |
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| “But for the bonny glen my heart cries sair, | 85 |
| I dream I’m standin’ knee-deep in the burn; | |
| I see the rowans noddin’ overhead, | |
| I hear the mavis sing aboon the fern. | |
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| “And when I see the wee bit roomie here, | |
| My man’s auld Bible, and my father’s crook, | 90 |
| And when I see the plaidie on the bed, | |
| And see them a’ through this poor city’s smoke, | |
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| “I shut my een, and pray the Lord make haste, | |
| Tak’ me the shortest road to heaven’s stair; | |
| And ’gin the shortest road were by the glen, | 95 |
| Think you the Lord wad tak’ me round by there?” | |
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