The Best Fishing Forum In The UK.
Do You Have What It Takes To Be A Member?

Main Menu
Please consider a donation to help with the running costs of this forum.

John Buchan time....

Started by Sandison, February 12, 2015, 10:30:28 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.


Puir Jamie's killed. A better lad
Ye wadna find to busk a flee
Or burn a pule or wield a gad
Frae Berwick to the Clints o' Dee

And noo he's in a happier land.
It's Gospel truth and Gospel law
That Heaven's yett maun open stand
To folk that for their country fa'.

But Jamie will be ill to mate;
He Wed nae music, kenned nae tunes
Except the sang o' Tweed in spate,
Or Talla loupin' ower its linns. I

I sair misdoot that Jamie's heed
A croun o' gowd will never please;
He liked a kep o' dacent tweed
Whaur he could stick his cast o' flees.

If Heaven is a' that man can dream
And a' that honest herts can wish,
It maun provide some muirland stream,
For Jamie dreamed o' nocht but fish.

And weel I wot he'll up and spier
In his bit blate and canty way,
Wi' kind Apostles standin' near
Whae in their time were fishers tae.

He'll offer back his gowden croun
And in its place a rod he'll seek,
And bashfu'-like his herp lay doun
And spier a leister and a cleek.

For Jim's had aye a poachin' whim;
He'll sune grow tired, wi' lawfu' flee
Made fra the wings o' cherubim,
O' casting ower the Crystal Sea ...

I picter him at gloamin' tide
Steekin' the backdoor o' his hame
And hastin' to the waterside
To play again the auld auld game;

And syne wi' saumon on his back,
Catch't clean against the Heavenly law,
And Heavenly byliffs on his track,
Gaun linkin' doun some Heavenly Shaw.
Bruce Sandison

Go To Front Page