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Poem by William Thom


The Lass o Kintore


AT hame or afield I am cheerless an lone,
I m dull on the Ury, an droop by the Don;
Their murmur is noisy, and fashions to hear,
An the lay o the lintie fas dead on my ear.
I hide frae the morn, and whaur naebody sees;
I greet to the burnie, an sich to the breeze;
Though I sich till I m silly, an greet till I dee,
Kintore is the spot in this world for me.
  But the lass o Kintore, O, the lass o Kintore,
  Be warned awa frae the lass o Kintore;
  There s a love-luring look that I neer kent afore
  Steals cannily hame to the heart at Kintore.

They bid me forget her, O, how can it be?
In kindness or scorn she s ever wi me;
I feel her fell frown in the lifts frosty blue,
An I weel ken her smile in the lilys saft hue.
I try to forget her, but canna forget,
I ve liket her lang, an I aye like her yet;
My poor heart may wither, may waste to its core,
But forget her, O never! the lass o Kintore!
  O, the wood o Kintore, the holmes o Kintore!
  The love-lichtin ee that I ken at Kintore;
  I ll wander afar, an I ll never look more
  On the gray glance o Peggy, or bonnie Kintore!



William Thom


William Thom's other poems:
  1. Ravenscraig
  2. The Wedded Waters
  3. Address to the Don


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