Craigo Wids Poem by Violet Jacob

CRAIGO WIDS, wi the splash o the cauld rain beatin
I' the back end o the year,
When the clouds hang laich wi the weicht o their load o greetin
An the autumn wind's asteer;
Ye mey stand like gaists, ye mey fa' i' the blast that's cleft ye
To rot i' the chilly dew,
But when will I mind on aucht since the day I left ye
Like I mind on you-on you?
Craigo Wids, i' the licht o September sleepin
An the saft mist o the morn,
When the hairst climbs to yer feet, an the soond o reapin
Comes up frae the stookit corn,
An the braw reid puddock-stuils are like jewels blinkin
An the brummle happs ye baith,
O what dae I see, i' the lang nicht, lyin an thinkin
As I see yer wraith - yer wraith?
There's a road to a far-aff land, an the land is yonder
Whaur a' men's hopes are set;
We dinna ken foo lang we maun hae to wander,
But we'll a' win to it yet;
An gin there's wids o fir an the licht atween them,
I winna speir its name,
But I'll lay me doon by the puddock-stuils when I've seen them,
An I'll cry 'I'm hame-I'm hame!'