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Poem by Robert Nicoll
I WINNA sing o' bluidy deeds an' waefu' war's alarms; For glancin' swords an' prancin' steeds, for me possess nae charms; But I will sing o' happiness which fireside bosoms feel, While listenin' to the birrin' soun' o' Scotland's spinnin'-wheel. The spinnin'-wheel ! the spinnin'-wheel! the very name is dear; It minds me o' the winter nichts, the blithest o' the year; O' cozie hours in hamely ha's, while frozen was the wiel In ilka burn,—while lassies sang by Scotland's spinnin'-wheel. It minds me o' the happy time, when, in our boyish glee, At barley-bracks, we laughin' chased ilk kimmer we could see, Or danced, while loud the bagpipes rang, the Highland foursum reel; There's naething dowie brought to mind by Scotland's spinnin'-wheel. The auld wife by the ingle sits, an' draws her cannie thread: It hauds her baith in milk an' meal, an' a' thing she can need: An' gleesome scenes o' early days upon her spirit steal, Brought back to warm her wither'd heart by Scotland's spinnin'-wheel. O! there is gladsome happiness, while round the fire are set The younkers,—when ahint the backs a happy pair are met, Wha wi' a silent kiss o' love their blessed paction seal, While sittin' in their truth beside auld Scotland's spinnin'-wheel. O! weel I lo'e the blackbird's sang in spring-time o' the year; O! weel I We the cushat's croon, in merry May to hear; But o' the sounds o' love and joy, there's nane I lo'e sae weel— There's nane sae pleasant as the birr o' Scotland's spinnin'-wheel.
Robert Nicoll's other poems:
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