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Poem by Marion Angus

The Fiddler

A fine player was he 
Twas the heather at my knee,
The Lang Hill o Fare
An a reid rose-tree,
A bonnie dryin green,
Wind fae aff the braes,
Liftin and shiftin
The clear-bleached claes.

Syne he played again 
Twas dreep, dreep o rain,
A bairn at the breist
An a warm hearth-stane,
Fire o the peat,
Scones o barley meal
An the whirr, whirr, whirr,
O a spinnin-wheel.

Bit aye, waes me!
The hindmaist tune he made 
Twas juist a dune wife
Greetin in her plaid,
Winds o a the years,
Naked was atween,
And heather creep, creepin
Ower the bonnie dryin green.

Marion Angus

Marion Angus's other poems:
  1. The Silver City
  2. Invitation
  3. A Small Thing
  4. Treasure Trove
  5. Alas! Poor Queen

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Hardy The Fiddler ("The fiddler knows whats brewing")

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