Explore "Songs of Angus: MONTROSE" by Violet Jacob on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Gin I should fa', / Lord, by ony chance, / And they howms o' France / Haud me for guid an' a'; / And gin I gang to Thee, / Lord, dinna blame, / But oh! tak' tent, tak' tent o' an Angus lad like me / An' let me hame!
I winna seek to bide / Awa owre lang, / Gin but Ye'll let me gang / Back to yon rowin' tide / Whaur aye Montrose -- my ain -- / Sits like a queen, / The Esk ae side, ae side the sea whaur she's set her lane / On the bents between.
I'll hear the bar / Loupin' in its place, / An' see the steeple's face / Dim i' the creepin' haar;[2] / And the toon-clock's sang / Will cry through the weit, / And the coal-bells ring, aye ring, on the cairts as they gang / I' the drookit street.
Heaven's hosts are glad, / Heaven's hames are bricht, / And in yon streets o' licht / Walks mony an Angus lad; / But my he'rt's aye back / Whaur my ain toon stands, / And the steeple's shade is laid when the tide's at the slack / On the lang sands.