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George MacDonald - The LaverockGeorge MacDonald - The Laverock
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The Man says: Laverock i` the lift, Hae ye nae sang-thrift, `At ye scatter `t sae heigh, and lat it a` drift? Wasterfu laverock! Dinna ye ken `At ye hing ower men Wha haena a sang or a penny to spen? Hertless laverock! But up there you, I` the bow o` the blue, Haud skirlin on as gien a` war new! Toom-heidit laverock! Haith, ye`re ower blythe! I see a great scythe Swing whaur yer nestie lies, doon i` the lythe, Liltin laverock! Eh, sic a soun! Birdie, come doun, Ye`re fey to sing sic a merry tune! Gowkit laverock! Come to yer nest; Yer wife`s sair prest, She`s clean worn oot wi` duin her best! Rovin laverock! Winna ye haud? Ye`re surely mad! Is there naebody there to gie ye a dad, Menseless laverock? Come doon and conform, Pyke an honest worm, And hap yer bairns frae the comin storm, Spendrife laverock! The Bird sings: My nestie it lieth I` the how o` a ban`; The swing o` the scythe `Ill miss `t by a span. The lift it`s sae cheery! The win` it`s sae free! I hing ower my dearie, And sing `cause I see. My wifie`s wee breistie Grows warm wi` my sang, And ilk crumpled-up beastie Kens no to think lang. Up here the sun sings, but He only shines there! Ye haena nae wings, but Come up on a prayer. The man sings: Ye wee daurin cratur, Ye rant and ye sing Like an oye o` auld Natur Ta`en hame by the king! Ye wee feathert priestie, Yer bells i` yer thro`t, Yer altar yer breistie, Yer mitre forgot— Offerin and Aaron, Ye burn hert and brain; And dertin and daurin, Flee back to yer ain! Ye wee minor prophet, It`s `maist my belief `At I`m doon in Tophet, And you abune grief! Ye`ve deavt me and daudit And ca`d me a fule: I`m nearhan` persuaudit To gang to your schule! For, birdie, I`m thinkin Ye ken mair nor me— Gien ye haena been drinkin, And sing as ye see. Ye maun hae a sicht `at Sees gay and far ben, And a hert, for the micht o` `t, Wad sair for nine men! There`s somebody`s been til Roun saft to ye wha Said birdies are seen til, And e`en whan they fa`!
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