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THE GOWK
I see the Gowk an’ the Gowk sees me
Beside a berry-bush by the aipple-tree.
{Old Scots rhyme.)
’Tib my auntie’s a deil to wark,
Has me risin’ afore the sun ;
Aince her heid is abune her sark
Then the clash o’ her tongue’s begun !
Warslin’, steerin’ wi’ hens an’ swine,
Naucht kens she o’ a freend o’ mine—
But the gowk that bides i’ the woods o’ Dun
He kens him fine !
Past the yaird an’ ahint the stye,
Oh, the aipples grow bonnilie !
Tib, my auntie, she canna spy
Wha comes creepin’ to kep f wi’ me.
Aye ! she’d sort him, for, dod, she’s fell !
Whisht now, Jimmie, an’ hide yersel’,
An’ the wise-like bird i’ the aipple-tree
He winna tell !
Aprile-month, or the aipples flower,
Tib, my auntie, will rage an’ ca’ ;
Jimmie lad, she may rin an’ glower—
What care I ? We’ll be far awa’ !
Let her seek me the leelang day,
Wha’s to tell her the road we’ll gae ?
For the cannie gowk, tho’ he kens it a’,
He winna say !
* cuckoo t meet

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