Poetry
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Schule in June
There's no a clood in the sky,
The hill's clear as can be,
An' the broon road's windin' ower it,
But - no for me!
It's June, wi' a splurge o' colour
In glen an' on hill,
An' it's me wad be lyin' up yonner,
But then - there's the schule.
There's a wude wi' a burn rinnin' through it,
Caller an' cool,
Whaur the sun splashes licht on the bracken
An' dapples the pool.
There's a sang in the soon' o' the watter,
Sang sighs in the air,
An' the worl' disnae maitter a docken
To yin that's up there.
A hop an' a step frae the windie,
Just fower mile awa,
An' I could be lyin' there thinkin'
O' naething ava'.
Ay! - the schule is a winnerfu' place,
Gin ye tak it a' roon,
An' I've no objection to lessons,
Whiles - but in June?
by Robert Bain (born 1865, Glasgow)
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