The Reiver

Gin I cud haud the peesie in her flicht
An catch the sang that hovers in her throat
Gin I cud track the leverick ben the nicht
An reive the liltin limmer o' her note
I'd hae a sang wirth singin.

Gin I cud sclim the lift, an nae be cowed
An swick the Lord o' derkness o his meen
Gin I cud hairry simmer o' her gowd
Or cowp misfortune's creel till til it war teem
I'd hae a ploy wirth playin.

Gin I cud spik wi eventide an speir.
The wye she peints the glimm on the glaur
Gin I cud rype the lochan o' her lear
Tae draw the wispin haavers o' the haar
I'd hae a darg wirth daein.

Gin Daith cud be the reistin o' a craw
A faldin wing, on tyauve, an wirdly care
As saft's the doonwird drappin o he snaa
The lowsin o' an arra on the air
'Twid be a peace wirth haein.

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