Sandy Fleming

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Doun Haudfast Brae

Nane ither wins intil my hert,
     Nor can thay gar me see
That I mysel shoud ken mair sense
     Than grup what wants tae flee.

     But syne yer hert wis like a lowe
          Yer sowel a walcome rain,
     Saft as mornin gress yer een,
          Nae wonder I wis fain.

What can grup maun grup,
     As rins the auld adage,
An sae I’ll gar a simmer swallae
     Winter in a cage.

     An nou yer sowel’s a spindrift howe,
          Yer een’s as haurd as stane,
     Nor truith nor lees’ll kinnle yer hert,
          An here I staun, alane.

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