Classic Poem

W E'RE auld and frail, and hirplin through
The valley o' regret,
For, oh, the days when life was new
We never can forget!
For Nature then was in her prime,
Then a' was fair to see,
An', careless o' the cares o' time,
Wi' happy herts gaed we,
To speel wi' dawn the broomy braes,
An' range amang the heather;
An' oh! but they were happy days,
When we were boys thegither.

Tho' spring is back amang the braes,
Wi' a' her flow'ry train,
Yet, oh, the hert o' ither days
She bringsna back again!
Still sings the lintie in the bush,
The lav'rock in the blue,
An tho' the burns in gledness gush,
There's something wanting noo.
Creation's harp has tint ae string,
Oor herts hae tint anither;
In harmony they canna sing
Since we were boys thegither.

The simmer days were langer then,
Mair sweet the evening's fa',
And gloamin' linger'd in the glen,
As laith to gang awa';
An' laith were we the glen to lea',
An' a' the green domain,
Till up abune the leddy mune
Led forth her starry train.
There's something wrang wi' Nature noo—
What ails our darling Mither?
The glory's faded frae her broo
Since we were boys thegither.

There's suirly nae sic sunshine noo
As there was in the days
When we were chasing the cuckoo,
'Mang Barchan's bonnie braes;
A something nane can understaun'
Has faded frae oor sight,
And earth's na mair a wonder-laun'
O' evergreen delight.
There's something wrang wi' Nature noo—
What ails oor darling Mither?
The glory's faded frae her broo
Since we were boys thegither.