The Hint o’ Hairst
O for a day at the Hint o’ Hairst,
With the craps weel in an’ stackit,
When the farmer steps thro’ the corn-yard,
An’ counts a’ the rucks he’s thackit:
When the smith stirs up his fire again,
To sharpen the ploughman’s coulter;
When the miller sets a new picked stane,
An’ dreams o’ a muckle moulter:
When cottars’ kail get a touch o’ frost,
That male’s them but taste the better;
An’ thro’ the neeps strides the leggined laird,
Wi’ ’s gun an’ a draggled setter:
When the forester wi’ axe an’ keel
Is markin’ the wind-blawn timmer,
An’ there ’s truffs aneuch at the barn gale
To reist a’ the fires till simmer.
Syne O for a nicht, ae lang forenicht,
Ower the dambrod spent or cairtin’,
Or keepin’ tryst wi’ a neebour’s lass—-
An’ a mou’ held up at pairtin’.