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The river wimplin' wimplin' wimplin' wi' a silver laugh over the stones, an' the light violet as a Scotch lass's eye! An' the green fields of alfalfa Have y' ever noticed how th' light above the alfalfa turns purple? An' y'r Rim Rocks roasted fire red by the heat. 'Tis the same view A've gazed on many a time when A was young."
But if ye're gaun to the Colm Burn ye maun haud atower the rig o' the hill frae the Knowe heid, and ye'll come to it wimplin' among green brae faces. It's a bonny bit, rale lonesome, but awfu' bonny, and there's mony braw trout in its siller flow." Then I remembered all I had heard of the old man's craze, and I humoured him. "It's a fine countryside for burns," I said.
'Twas a bonnie e'e, like silver stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin' brook; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o' the like till the lassie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi' shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out her.
"Queer how y' keep imaginin' ye hear wimplin' brooks! When A let myself go, A keep hearin' the tinkle o' y'r rills back in the mountains! A keep seein' the blue false water waverin' up to my feet an' recedin' again! Isn't there a fellow in mythology, Wayland, died o' thirst in water because when he reached to drink it, it kept waverin' away?"
Whan the wimplin' horn that frae three herts gaed Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin, Cam to the lip o' the sea sae braid, It curled an' grued wi' pain o' sin But it took that burnie in. "It's a bonny, bonny sang," said Malcolm; "but I canna say I a'thegither like it." "Why not?" asked Mr Graham, with an inquiring smile.
As we cam' through the scented birks, we saw a trottin' burnie wimplin' 'neath the white-blossomed slaes and hirplin' doon the hillside; an' while a herd-laddie lilted ower the fernie brae, a cushat cooed leesomely doon i' the dale. We pit aff oor shoon, sae blithe were we, kilted oor coats a little aboon the knee, and paidilt i' the burn, gettin' geyan weet the while.
While, in the Orient, Lammer's daughters, A distant giant range, are seen; North Berwick Law, with cone of green, And Bass amid the waters." Then we began to crack, our host leading the way with his humorous observations. After taking our fill of rest and talk, we wended our way down again, with the "wimplin' burn" by our side, fresh from the pure springs of the hill, whispering its welcome to us.
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