| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
12 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
||
|
They sold their gear, and over the sea
To a foreign land they went, Over the sea—but wha can flee
His appointed punishment ?
The ship swam over the water clear,
Wi' the help o' the eastern breeze; But the vera first sound in guilty fear, O'er the wide, smooth deck, that fell on their ear
Was the tapping o' them twa knees.
In the woods of wild America
Their weary feet they set; But Stumpie was there the first, they say, And he haunted them onto their dying day,
And he follows their children yet.
I haud ye, never the voice of blood
Call'd from the earth in vain; And never has crime won worldly good,
But it brought its after-pain.
This is the story o' Stumpie's Brae,
And the murderers' fearin' fate: Young man, your face is turn'd that way,
Ye'll be ganging the night that gate.
Ye'll ken it weel, through the few fir-trees,
The house where they wont to dwell; Gin ye meet ane there, as daylight flees, Stumping about on the banes of his knees It'll just be Stumpie himsel'. |
||