The Brig

By Violet Jacob

    I whiles gang to the brig-side
        That’s past the briar tree,
    Alang the road when the licht is wide
        Owre Angus an’ the sea.

    In by the dyke yon briar grows
        Wi’ leaf an’ thorn, it’s lane
    Whaur the spunk o’ flame o’ the briar rose
        Burns saft agin the stane.

    An’ whiles a step treids on by me,
        I mauna hear its fa’;
    And atween the brig an’ the briar tree
        Ther gangs na’ ane, but twa.

    Oot owre yon sea, through dule an’ strife,
        Ye tak’ yer road nae mair,
    For ye’ve crossed the brig to the fields o’ life,
        An’ ye walk for iver there.

    I traivel on to the brig-side,
        Whaur ilka road maun cease,
    My weary war may be lang to bide,
        An’ you hae won to peace.

    There’s ne’er a nicht but turns to day,
        Nor a load that’s niver cast;
    An’ there’s nae wind cries on the winter brae,
        But it spends itsel’ at last.

    O you that niver failed me yet,
        Gin aince my step ye hear,
    Come to yon brig atween us set,
        An’ bide till I win near!

    O weel, aye, weel, ye’ll ken my treid,
        Ye’ll seek nae word nor sign,
    An’ I’ll no can fail at the Brig o’ Dreid,
        For yer hand will be in mine.

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