The Reply
Tho’ loud the mavis whistles now
An’ blackbirds pipe fae ilka bough
An’ laverocks set the heart alowe—
Mid a’ the plenty
You’d miss upon the wayside cowe
The twitt’rin’ lintie.
An’ think you, when the simmer’s gane,
When sleet blaws thro’ the leafless plane,
An’ bieldless birds sit mute an’ lane,
The woods a’ cheerless,
The namely robin on the stane
Sings sweet an’ fearless.
So tho’ my sangs be as you say
Nae marrow for the blackbird’s lay,
They may hae cheered somebody’s way
Wha wanted better,
An’ sent him happier up the brae
My welcome debtor.
Nae care hae I, nor wish to speel
Parnassus’ knowe, for mony a chiel
Has tint his time, his life as weel,
To claim a bit o’t:
I only crave a wee bit biel’
Near han’ the fit o’t.