Epistle To John Rankine（2 / 3）
yon sang ye'll sen't, wi' cannie care,
and no neglect.
tho' faith, sma' heart hae i to sing!
my muse dow scarcely spread her wing;
i've play'd mysel a bonie spring,
an' danc'd my fill!
i'd better gaen an' sair't the king,
at bunkjer's hill.
'twas ae night lately, in my fun,
i gaed a rovin' wi' the gun,
an' brought a paitrick to the grun'—
a bonie hen;
and, as the twilight was begun,
thought nane wad ken.
the poor, wee thing was little hurt;
i straikit it a wee for sport,
ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't;
but, deil-ma-care!
somebody tells the poacher-court
the hale affair.
some auld, us'd hands had taen a note,
that sic a hen had got a shot;
i was suspected for the plot;
i scorn'd to lie;
so gat the whissle o' my groat,
an' pay't the fee.
but by my gun, o' guns the wale,
an' by my pouther an' my hail,
an' by my hen, an' by her tail,
i vow an' swear! ↑返回顶部↑
and no neglect.
tho' faith, sma' heart hae i to sing!
my muse dow scarcely spread her wing;
i've play'd mysel a bonie spring,
an' danc'd my fill!
i'd better gaen an' sair't the king,
at bunkjer's hill.
'twas ae night lately, in my fun,
i gaed a rovin' wi' the gun,
an' brought a paitrick to the grun'—
a bonie hen;
and, as the twilight was begun,
thought nane wad ken.
the poor, wee thing was little hurt;
i straikit it a wee for sport,
ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't;
but, deil-ma-care!
somebody tells the poacher-court
the hale affair.
some auld, us'd hands had taen a note,
that sic a hen had got a shot;
i was suspected for the plot;
i scorn'd to lie;
so gat the whissle o' my groat,
an' pay't the fee.
but by my gun, o' guns the wale,
an' by my pouther an' my hail,
an' by my hen, an' by her tail,
i vow an' swear! ↑返回顶部↑