The Hairst O' Rettie
I hae seen the hairst o' Rettie, lads,
And twa-three aff the throne.
I've heard o sax and seven weeks
The hairsters girn and groan.
But wi' a covie Willie Rae
A monthie an' a day
Sends a' the jolly hairsters
Singin' blithely doon the brae.
In a monthie an' a day, my lads,
The like was never seen;
It beats to sticks the fastest strips
O' Vickers' best machine.
The Speedwell she taks up the rear,
The Victory clears the way;
And twenty acres daily yields,
Laid doon tae Willie Rae.
He drives them roond and roond the field
At sic an awfu' rate:
Yet guides them gently oot and in
At mony's a kittle gate.
And wiles them gently ow'r the steens
And mony a hidden hole,
And he'll come by nae mishanter
If ye leave him wi' a pole.
O he sharps their teeth tae gar them bite;
He taps them on the jaws,
And if he sees them dowie-like,
He'll brawly ken the cause:
A boltie here, or a pinnie there,
Tae keep them aye in tune;
He'll quickly stop their wild career,
And bring the clishack doon.
O he whittles aff the corners,
And makes crookit bitties straucht,
He likes to see that man and beast
Are equal in a draucht,
An' a' the corners neat an' square
And nae a shafe agley;
And he'll coont wi' ony dominie
Frae the Deveron tae the Spey.
Noo he's nae made up wi' mony words
Or kent tae puff and lee,
But just as keen a little chap
As ony you will see.
And if you're in search o hairvest work
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poem by Robert Burns
Added by Poetry Lover
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