Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/134

114 THE BOUR-TREE DEN

in the rain they ride,

Down by the braes and the grey sea-side;

Clinkum-clank by stane and cairn,

Weary fa' their horse-shoe-airn!

Loud on the causey, saft on the sand,

Round they rade by the tail of the land;

Round and up by the Bour-Tree Den,

Weary fa' the red-coat men!

Aft hae I gane where they hae rade

And straigled in the gowden brooms—

Aft hae I gane, a saikless maid,

And O! sae bonny as the bour-tree blooms!

Wi' swords and guns they wanton there,

Wi' red, red coats and braw, braw plumes.

But I gaed wi' my gowden hair,

And O! sae bonny as the bour-tree blooms!

I ran, a little hempie lass,

In the sand and the bent grass,

Or took and kilted my small coats

To play in the beached fisher-boats.