Explore "Songs of Angus: THE KIRK BESIDE THE SANDS" by Violet Jacob on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was faur-ye-weel, my dear, that the gulls were cryin' / At the kirk beside the sands, / Whaur the saumon-nets lay oot on the bents for dryin', / Wi' the tar upon their strands;
A roofless kirk i' the bield o' the cliff-fit bidin', / And the deid laid near the wa'; / A wheen auld coupit stanes i' the sea-grass hidin', / Wi' the sea-sound ower them a'.
But it's mair nor daith that's here on the hauchs o' Flanders, / And the deid lie closer in; / It's no the gull, but the hoodit craw that wanders / When the lang, lang nichts begin.
It's ill to dee, but there's waur things yet nor deein'; / And the warst o' a's disgrace; / For there's nae grave deep eneuch 'mang the graves in bein' / To cover a coward's face.
Syne, a' is weel, though my banes lie here for iver, / An' hame is no for me, / Till the reid tide brak's like the spate in a roarin' river / O'er the micht o' Gairmanie.
Sae gang you back, my dear, whaur the gulls are cryin', / Gie thanks by kirk an' grave, / That yer man keeps faith wi' the land whaur his he'rt is lyin', / An' the Lord will keep the lave.