The Kelpie

I’m feared o’ the road ayont the glen,I’m sweir to pass the placeWhaur the water’s rinnin’, for a’ fowk kenThere’s a kelpie sits at the fit o’ the den,And there’s them that’s seen his face.

But whiles he watches an’ whiles he hidesAnd whiles, gin na wind manes,Ye can hear him roarin’ frae whaur he bidesAn’ the soond o’ him splashin’ agin the sidesO’ the rocks an’ the muckle stanes.

When the mune gaes doon at the arn-tree’s backIn a wee, wee weary licht,My bed-claes up to my lugs I tak’,For I mind the swirl o’ the water blackAn’ the cry i’ the fearsome nicht.

And lang an’ fell is yon road to meAs I come frae the schule;I duarna think what I’m like to seeWhen dark fa’s airly on buss an’ treeAt Martinmas and Yule.

Aside the crusie my mither reads,“My bairn,” says she, “ye’ve heardThe Lord is mindfu’ o’ a’ oor needsAn’ His shield an’ buckler’s abune the heidsO’ them that keeps His word.”

But I’m a laddie that’s no that douce,An’ fechtin’s a bonnie game;The dominie’s pawmies are little use,An’ mony’s the Sawbath I’m rinnin’ looseWhen a’body thinks I’m hame!

Dod, noo we’re nearin’ the shorter days,It’s cannie I’ll hae to gang,An’ keep frae fechtin’ an’ sic-like ways,And no be tearin’ my Sawbath claesAfore that the nichts grow lang.

Richt guid an’ couthie I’ll need to be,(But it’s leein’ to say I’m glad),I ken there’s troubles that fowk maun dree,An’ the kelpie’s no like to shift for me,Sae, gin thae warlocks are fear’d o’ Thee,Lord, mak’ me a better lad!