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William Soutar

William Soutar Books

Poet

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“Wee Wullie Waggletail, what is a' your stishie? Tak a doup o' water and courie on a stane: Ilka tree stands dozent, an' the wind without a hishie Fitters in atween the fleurs and shogs them, ane be ane. What whigmaleerie gars ye jow and jink amanf the duckies, Wi' a rowsan simmer sin beekin on your croun; Wheeple, wheeple, wheeplin like a wee burn owre the chuckies, An wagglin here, an wagglin there, an wagglin up an' doun.”

“THE TRYST O luely, luely cam she in And luely she lay doon: I kent her by her caller lips And her breists sae sma' and roun'. A thru the nicht we spak nae word Nor sinder'd bane frae bane: A' thru the nicht I heard her hert Gang soundin' wi' my ain. It was aboot the waukrife hour When cocks began to craw That she smool'd saftly thru the mirk Afore the day wud daw. Sae luely, luely cam she in Saie luely was she gaen; And wi' her a' my simmer days Like they had never been.”