Theocritus In Scots

The Fishers

(Idyll xxi)

’Tis puirtith sooples heid and hand And gars inventions fill the land; And dreams come fast to folk that lie Wi’ nocht atween them and the sky.

Twae collier lads frae near Lasswade, Auld skeely fishers, fand their bed Ae simmer’s nicht aside the shaw Whaur Manor rins by Cademuir Law. Dry flowe-moss made them pillows fine, And, for a bield to kep the win’, A muckle craig owerhung the burn, A’ thacked wi’ blaeberry and fern. Aside them lay their rods and reels, Their flee-books and their auncient creels. The pooches o’ their moleskin breeks Contained unlawfu’ things like cleeks, For folk that fish to fill their wame Are no fasteedious at the game.

The twae aye took their jaunts thegither; Geordie was ane and Tam the ither. Their chaumer was the mune-bricht sky, The siller stream their lullaby.

When knocks in touns were chappin’ three, Tam woke and rubbed a blinkin’ ee. It was the ’oor when troots are boun’ To gulp the May-flee floatin’ doun, Afore the sun is in the glens And dim are a’ the heughs and dens.