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Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (Каролина Олифант, леди Нэрн) The Pleughman There's high and low, there's rich and poor, There's trades and crafts eneuch, man; But east and west his trade's the best, That kens to guide the pleugh, man. Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad, And hey my merry pleughman; Of a' the trades that I do ken, Commend me to the pleughman. His dreams are sweet upon his bed, His cares are light and few, man; His mother's blessin's on his head, That tents her weel, the pleughman. Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad, And hey my merry pleughman; Of a' the trades that I do ken, Commend me to the pleughman. The lark sae sweet, that starts to meet The morning fresh and new, man; Blithe tho' she be, as blithe is he That sings as sweet, the pleughman. Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad, And hey my merry pleughman; Of a' the trades that I do ken, Commend me to the pleughman. All fresh and gay, at dawn of day, Their labours they renew, man; Heaven bless the seed and bless the soil, And heaven bless the pleughman. Then come, weel speed my pleughman lad, And hey my merry pleughman; Of a' the trades that I do ken, Commend me to the pleughman. Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1197 |
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