REMINISCENCES OF LOCKERBIE.
Aul’ Lockerbie! aul’ Lockerbie! the dear wee toon to me!
Where, never fleyed, a boy I played, an’ roved a younker free,
Wi’ heart sae licht that life was bricht as never mair it shall,
For never mair I’ll ramble where I drank o’ Bessie’s wal’.[14]
Yes! dear to me is Lockerbie, its houses wee an’ big,
Its “Up the gate,” its “Doon the gate,” its “Cross,” an’ “Through the brig,”
Its closes mirk,[15] its stumpy kirk, its fu’ an’ thrang kirkyard
Where caul’ an’ deep some dreamless sleep I wish dour death had spared.