From Lines to William Simson
1 Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain,
2 She's gotten poets o' her ain--
3 Chiels wha their chanters winna hain,
4 But tune their lays,
5 Till echoes a' resound again
6 Her weel-sung praise.
7 Nae poet thought her worth his while
8 To set her name in measur'd style:
9 She lay like some unken'd-of isle
10 Beside New Holland,
11 Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil
12 Besouth Magellan.
13 Ramsay and famous Fergusson
15 Yarrow and Tweed to mony a tune
16 Owre Scotland rings;
17 While Irvin, Lugar, Ayr an' Doon
18 Naebody sings.
19 Th' Ilissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine
20 Glide sweet in mony a tunefu' line;
21 But, Willie, set your fit to mine
22 And cock your crest,
23 We'll gar our streams and burnies shine
24 Up wi' the best!
25 We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells,
26 Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells,
27 Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells,
28 Where glorious Wallace
29 Aft bure the gree, as story tells,
30 Frae Southron billies.
31 At Wallace' name what Scottish blood
32 But boils up in a spring-tide flood!
33 Oft have our fearless fathers strode
34 By Wallace' side,
35 Still pressing onward red-wat-shod,
36 Or glorious dy'd.
37 O sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods,.
38 When lintwhites chant amang the buds,
39 And jinkin hares in amorous whids
40 Their loves enjoy,
41 While thro' the braes the cushat croods
42 Wi' wailfu' cry!
43 Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me,
44 When winds rave thro' the naked tree;
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poem by Robert Burns
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