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Elphinstone Kist   Doric Verse

    by: Peter Fraser

Fin A’m awa,
An the unco spirk o smeddum in ma breist
His fleed awa ti jyne the muckle fite hert o life
At maun fairly birstle ayont us aa,
An aathin aat ivver wis maasel
Is jist foost an caul deid stoor,
Fin eence A hid a gweed conceit o maasel, noo
Teen awa fir ivvermair,

Fir ony’s sake, dinna cast me aneth the grun
Awa fae the licht an the couthieness o life:
Bit tak ma fitened banes til the heid o the glen;
Oot o the steer an stramash o the toon,
Fynd a muckle steen faur the win aye blaas,
An on’t jist lay me doon,
Faur the scree skites doon ti the dreich dumpness,
An the snaamelt shines fite agin the blaik, blaik steens,
Sypin wi smirr in a caul, caul win,
An the lichtsome licht o the sin disna ging.
Faur the hicht o the ben wid ding doon the hivvins: an aa
The ongyauns o mortal chiels are fair oot o myn.

Jist sae aat A ken,
Fan A’ve weert awa as aabody maun,
The seelent sough o slantin sleet an snaa:
The stoonin o hale watter: the coorse rowt o stags:
The skelp o the snell win: an still an oan
The canny skreek o the day will kep the bluidless banes
Faur eence bade ma een: an A’ll see the sindoon,
An syne A’ll ken the douce cannieness o nicht
An o the stars A’ll hae a sicht.




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