THE BOUR-TREE DEN 115
I waded deep and I ran fast, I was as lean as a lugger's mast, I was as brown as a fisher's creel, And I liked my life unco weel.
They blew a trumpet at the cross, Some forty men, both foot and horse. A'body cam to hear and see, And wha, among the rest, but me. My lips were saut wis the saut air, My face was brown, my feet were bare, The wind had ravelled my tautit hair. And I thought shame to be standing there.
Ae man there in the thick of the throng
Sat in his saddle, straight and strong.
I looked at him and he at me,
And he was a master-man to see.
. . . And who Is this yin ? and who is yon
That has the bonny lendings on?
That sits and looks sae braw and crouse ?
. . . Mister Frank o' the Big House!
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I gaed my lane beside the sea; The wind it blew in bush and tree, The wind blew in bush and bent: Muckle I saw, and muckle kent!