Classic Poem

With the heart and the heels of a hunted hare
He took the track by Foulbarn Gair
And over Coldburn Hill,
With many a twist and many a turn
Through the rimy bent and the bracken-fern—
But they followed him, followed him still.

With many a twist and many a turn
He scrambled down to the Lambden Burn
And up the Bellyside Hill.
He dropped his knife as he climbed the brae,
He dropped his gully, but could not stay,
For they followed him, followed him still.

He dropped his knife as he climbed the brae,
He dropped his gully, but could not stay,
For now at the foot of the hill
The dead man's sons were hot on his track,
So hard on his track he couldn't turn back,
For they followed him, followed him still.

The dead man's sons were hot on his track,
So hard on his track he dare not turn back
To meet them on the hill:
He dropped the poke with the old man's hoard
And made a bolt for Langleeford—
But they followed him, followed him still.

They did not stay for the old man's hoard,
And never he came to Langleeford,
For they took him upon Scald Hill—
They took him at last … And a cairn of stones
Lies hard and heavy upon his bones,
But his ghost it is running still—

With the heart and the heels of a hunted hare
It takes the track by Foulbarn Gair
And over Coldburn Hill,
With many a twist and many a turn
Through the rimy bent and the bracken-fern,
And they follow him, follow him still.