Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/118

94 Thus, on the day o' solemn things,

The bell that in the steeple swings

To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings

Its walcome screed;

An' just a wee thing nearer brings

The quick an' deid.

But noo the bell is ringin' in;

To tak their places, folk begin;

The minister himsel' will shüne

Be up the gate,

Filled fu' wi' clavers about sin

An' man's estate.

The tünes are up—French, to be shüre,

The faithfü' French, an' twa-three mair;

The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair,

Wales out the portions,

An' yirks the tüne into the air

Wi' queer contortions.