| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
|
|||
|
THE GARDENER. |
93 |
||
|
|
|||
|
" Your goun sail be the Sweet William;
Your coat the camovine ; Your apron o' the sallads neat, is
That taste baith sweet and fine.
" Your hose sail be the brade kail-blade,
That is baith brade and lang; Narrow, narrow, at the cute,
And brade, brade at the brawn. ' so*
" Your gloves sail be the marigold,
All glittering to your hand, Weel spread owre wi' the blue blaewort,
That grows amang corn-land."
" 0 fare ye weil, young man," she says, as
" Fareweil, and I bid adieu ; Sin ye've provided a weed for me
Amang the simmer flowers, It's I'se provide anither for you,
Amang the winter-showers : so
" The new fawn snaw to be your smock ;
It becomes your bodie best; Your head sail be wrapt wi' the eastern wind,
And the cauld rain on your breist. |
|||
|
|
|||