Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Ballads and songs of Ayrshire > Volume 2

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THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.
She calmly twin'd the thread o' life,
An' turn'd her I'eel about,
Singing, tu's ane — an' tu's no ane —
An' tu's twa a' oot.
She aft o' thriftie rockins spalc',
O' cracks an' kempin' rare.
Where eident lasses blithely span,
The lint as straight's a hair.
An' aye they twin'd their siller skene,
An' twirl'd the reel about,
Singing, tu's ane — and tu's no ane —
An' tu's twa a' oot.
An' orphan boy, her pride and joy,
A lammie in her e'e,
Play'd wi' the spindle at her feet.
Or wummled 'bout her knee.
An' ower, an' ower, like Auntie's sang.
He read her ballad book.
Singing, tu's ane — an' tu's no ane —
An' tu's twa a' oot.
Near a dark tarn their shielin lay,
'Mang Druid rocks that hung
Cauld shadows ower its dowie face,
Like cluds ower winter's sun ;
There up and down, the lang day roun'.
He watch'd the water coot,
And learn'd its sang, had ower-come nane.
But aye the twa a' oot.
Then weel he watch'd ae wee pet lamb,
Or brought frae loaning green.
The kye frae 'mang the seggans lang,
To neebours liame at e'en.
Or paidled by the lochs an' bums.
To catch the wylie trovit,
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