Why wert thou not born in my father’s dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces—
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I FEEL I’M GROWING AULD, GUDE-WIFE
By James Linen
I feel I’m growing auld, gude-wife—
I feel I’m growing auld;
My steps are frail, my een are bleared,