Read "The Gangerel" by Violet Jacob online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
It's ye maun whustle for a breeze / Until the sails be fu'; / They bigg yon ships that ride the seas / To pleasure fowk like you.
For ye hae siller i' yer hand / And a' that gowd can buy, / But weary, in a weary land, / A gangerel-loon am I.
Ye'll feel the strang tides lift an' toss / The scud o' nor'land faem, / And when ye drap the Southern Cross / It's a' roads lead ye hame.
And ye shall see the shaws o' broom / Wave on the windy hill, / Alang the strath the hairst-fields toom[19] / And syne the stackyairds fill.
Ye'll hear fu' mony a raittlin' cairt / On Forfar's causey-croon,[20] / Wi' young stirks loupin' to the Mairt / That roars in Forfar toon.
O' nichts, ayont yer snibbet door, / Ye'll see in changeless band, / Abune Craig Oule, to keep Strathmore, / The stars of Scotland stand.
But tho' ye think ye sicht them fine / Gang ben an' tak' yer rest, / Frae lands that niver kent their shine / It's me that sees them best!
For they shall brak' their ancient trust, / Shall rise nae mair nor set, / The Sidlaw hills be laid in dust / Afore that I forget.
Lowse ye the windy-sneck a wheen, / An' glowre frae ilka airt / Fegs! Ye may see them wi' yer een -- / _I_ see them wi' my he'rt!
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Empty.
[20] The middle of the street.