Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/152

128 I mind the fecht the sailors keep,

But fire or can'le, rest or sleep,

In darkness an' the muckle deep;

An' mind beside

The herd that on the hills o' sheep

Has wandered wide.

I mind me on the hoastin' weans—

The penny joes on causey stanes—

The auld folk wi' the crazy banes,

Baith auld an' puir,

That aye maun thole the winds an' rains,

An' labour sair.

An' whiles I'm kind o' pleased a blink,

An' kind o' fleyed forby, to think,

For a' my rowth o' meat an' drink

An' waste o' crumb,

I'll mebbe have to thole wi' skink

In Kingdom Come.