The Eternal Feminine
by John Buchan
Read by Marilyn Wright
Click
here to listen to this in RealAudio
When I
was a freckled bit bairn
And
cam in frae my ploys to the fire,
Wi' my
buits a' clamjamphried wi' shairn
And my
jaicket a' speldered wi' mire,
I got
gloomin' and glunchin' and paiks,
And
nae bite frae the press or the pan,
And my
auld grannie said as she skelped me to bed,
'Hech,
sirs, what a burden is man!'
When I
was a lang-leggit lad,
At
waddin's and kirns a gey cheild,
I hae
happit a lass in my maud
And
gone cauldrife that she micht hae beild,
And
convoyed her bye bogles and stirks,
A kiss
at the hindmost my plan;
But a'
that I fand was the wecht o' her hand,
And 'Hech,
sirs, what a burden is man!'
When
Ailie and me were made yin
We set
up in a canty bit cot;
Sair
wrocht we day oot and day in,
We
were unco content wi' oor lot.
But
whiles wi' a neebor I'd tak
A
gless that my heid couldna stan';
Syne
she'd greet for a week, and nae word wad she speak
But 'Hech,
sirs, what a burden is man!'
She
dee'd, and my dochter and me
For
the lave wi' ilk ither maun shift.
Nae
tentier lass could ye see;
The
wooers cam doun like a drift;
But
sune wi' an unco blae glower
Frae
the doorstep they rade and they ran,
And
she sigh to hersel', as she gae'd to the well
'Hech
sirs, what a burden is man!'
She's
mairrit by noo and she's got
A
white-heided lass o' her ain.
White-heided
mysel, as I stot
Roond
the doors o' her shouther I'm fain.
What
think ye that wean said yestreen?
I'll
tell ye, believe't if ye can;
She
primmed up her mou' and said saft as a doo,
'Hech,
sirs, what a burden is man!'
|