| Snaw, snaw, flee awa' Owre the hills and far awa'. |
Towards the yellow-hammer, or yellow-yite—bird of beautiful plumage though it be—because it is the subject of an unaccountable superstitious notion, which credits it with drinking a drop of the devil's blood every May morning, the children of Scotland cherish no inconsiderable contempt, which finds expression in the rhyme:—
| Half a puddock, half a taed, Half a yellow yorling; Drinks a drap o' the deil's blood Every May morning. |
On the East Coast, when the seagulls fly inland in search of food, the children, not desiring their appearance—because —probably of the old superstition that they are prone to pick out the eyes of people—cry to them:—
| Seamaw, seamaw, my mither's awa' For pouther an' lead, to shoot ye dead— Pit-oo! pit-oo! pit-oo! |
To the lark's song the young mind gives language, in a kindly way, thus:—
| Larikie, larikie, lee! Wha'll gang up to heaven wi' me? No the lout that lies in his bed, No the doolfu' that dreeps his head. |
Interpreting similarly the lapwing's cry, they retaliate with:—
| Peese-weep! Peese-weep! Harry my nest, and gar me greet! |
Of the cuckoo they have this common rhyme:—