The Holy Fair（2 / 9）

  their visage wither'd, lang an' thin,
  an' sour as only slaes:
  the third cam up, hap-stap-an'-lowp,
  as light as ony lambie,
  an' wi'a curchie low did stoop,
  as soon as e'er she saw me,
  fu' kind that day.
  wi' bonnet aff, h i, “sweet lass,
  i think ye seem to ken me;
  i'm sure i've seen that bonie face
  but yet i canna name ye.”
  quo' she, an' laughin as she spak,
  an' taks me by the han's,
  “ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck
  of a' the ten comman's
  a screed some day.”
  “my name is fun—your cronie dear,
  the nearest friend ye hae;
  an' this is superstitution here,
  an' that's hypocrisy.
  i'm gaun to mauchline holy fair,
  to spend an hour in daffin:
  gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair,
  we will get famous laughin
  at them this day.”
  h i, “wi' a' my heart, i'll do't;
  i'll get my sunday's sark on,
  an' meet you on the holy spot;
  faith, we'se hae fine remarkin!”
  then i gaed hame at crowdie-time, ↑返回顶部↑