Craigo Woods

Craigo Woods
by Violet Jacob

Craigo Woods, wi the splash o the caald rain beatin
In the back end o the year,
When the clouds hang laich wi the wecht o their load o greetin
And the autumn wind’s asteer;
Ye may stand like ghaists, ye may faa in the blast that’s cleft ye
To rot in the chilly dew,
But when will I mind on aucht since the day I left ye
Like I mind on you – on you?

Craigo Woods, in the licht o September sleepin
And the saft mist o the morn,
When the hairst climbs to yer feet, and the sound o reapin
Comes up frae the stookit corn,
And the braw reid puddock-stools are like jewels blinkin
And the bramble happs ye baith,
O what do I see, in the lang nicht, lyin and thinkin
As I see yer wraith – yer wraith?

There’s a road to a far-aff land, and the land is yonder
Whaur aa men’s hopes are set;
We dinna ken foo lang we maun hae to wander,
But we’ll aa win to it yet;
And gin there’s woods o fir and the licht atween them,
I winna speir its name,
But I’ll lay me doon by the puddock-stools when I’ve seen them,
And I’ll cry “I’m hame – I’m hame!”