The Field By The Lirk O' The Hill By Violet Jacob

        Daytime an’ nicht,
            Sun, wind an’ rain;
        The lang, cauld licht
            O’ the spring months again.
        The yaird’s a’ weed,
            An’ the fairm’s a’ still –
        Wha’ll sow the seed
    I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill?

        Prood maun ye lie,
            Prood did ye gang;
        Auld, auld am I,
            But O! life’s lang!
        Gaists i’ the air,
            Whaups cryin’ shrill,
        An’ you nae mair
    I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill –
        Aye, bairn, nae mair, nae mair,
    I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill!