The Last o' the Tinkler

Lay me in yon place, lad,
The gloamin 's thick wi' nicht;
I canna see yer face, lad,
For my een 's no richt.
But it 's owre late for leein'
An' I ken fine I'm deein'
Like an auld craw fleein'
Tae the last o' the licht.

The kye gang tae the byre, lad,
The sheep tae the fauld,
Ye'll mak a spunk o' fire, lad,
For my hert 's turned cauld;
And whaur the trees are meetin'
There 's a sound like waters beatin'
An' the bird seems near tae greetin'
That was aye singin' bauld.

There 's just the tent tae leave, lad,
I've gaithered little gear,
There 's just yersel' tae grieve, lad,
And the auld dog here;
But when the morn comes creepin'
And the waukin' birds are cheepin'
It'll find me lyin' sleepin'
As I've slept saxty year.

Ye'll rise tae meet the sun, lad,
And baith be trayv'lin' west
But me that 's auld an' done, lad,
I'll bide an' tak my rest;
For the grey heid is bendin'
And the auld shune 's needin' mendin',
But the trayv'lin 's near its endin',
An' the end 's aye the best.
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