The Field By The Lirk O The Hill Poem 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 sou 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!