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Twa wee bit miles frae the heich hope heid, Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin, Doon creepit a cowerin' streakie o' reid, An' meltit awa' within, Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin. Frae the hert o' a youth cam the tricklin' reid, Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin; It ran an' ran till it left him deid, An' syne it dried up i' the win', An' that burnie nae mair did rin.
Ye see, the disease that's broke oot amang them whatever it is made some o' them sae desprit that they got through the wundy that looks to the sea an' creepit alang the precipice. It was a daft-like thing to try in the daylight; but certain death would hae been their lot, I suspec', if they had ventured on a precipice like that i' the dark.
But I'll speir ye nae mair, sir, said the herd. I fear what ye micht say neist. Ye wad but won'er the mair, said the bird, To see the thouchts i' my breist. And aye he sang, an' better he sang, An' the worms creepit in an' oot; An' ane he tuik, an' twa he loot gang, But still he carolled stoot.
"It was Leeby 'at I got it frae. Ye see, Joey had never seen me gaen ony gait withoot my staff, an' he thocht if he hod it I wouldna be able to gang awa. Ay, he planned it all oot, though he was but a bairn, an' lay watchin' me in my bed till I fell asleep. Syne he creepit oot o' the bed, an' got the staff, and gaed ben for Leeby.
"A ken the penny micht be buyin' a hame," came in a drowsy voice from Sandy's crib. "'Twad be a hame in Aberdeen wi' trees an' flo'ers an' mickle wee creepit things an' Miss Peggie an' us "
'I creepit up, an' I keeked within the openin' o't, an' there I saw twa hunters sittin' at board eatin', and whiles drinkin' the blood-red wine ane o' them was the bonniest man e'er I saw i' my life, but he had the sorrowfullest eyes e'er set i' a man's face. There was ne'er a bit colour to his cheeks save where a trickle o' claret had stained the corner o' his lip.
"The wee tyke couldna loup up to it, an' a deil o' a pussy got it a'. He was so bonny, like a leddy's pet, an' syne he fell ower on the snaw an' creepit awa'. He didna cry oot, but he was a' but deid wi' hunger." At the memory of it soft-hearted Ailie Lindsey sobbed on her mother's shoulder.
But a city is a dreary place at night, even to one who knows his way in it much drearier to one lost in some respects drearier than a heath except there be old mine-shafts in it. "It's as gien a' the birds o' a country had creepit intil their bit eggs again, an' the day was left bare o' sang!" said the poet to himself as he walked. Night amongst houses was a new thing to him.
The last one he ever read to her in that meadow was this: What gars ye sing, said the herd laddie, What gars ye sing sae lood? To tice them oot o' the yerd, laddie, The worms, for my daily food. An' aye he sang, an' better he sang, An' the worms creepit in an' oot; An' ane he tuik, an' twa he loot gang, But still he carolled stoot.
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