|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
THOMAS THE RHYMER
'And see ye not yon braid, braid road,
That lies across the lily leven ? That is the Path of Wickedness,
Though some call it the Road to Heaven.
' And see ye not yon bonny road
That winds about the fernie brae ? That is the Road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
' But, Thomas, ye sail haud your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see; For speak ye word in Elflyn-land,
Ye'll ne'er win back to your ain coimtrie.'
O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded rivers abune the knee ;
And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.
It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight, They waded thro' red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on the earth Rins through the springs o' that countrie.
Syne they came to a garden green,
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree: ' Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.'
leven] ? lawn.