The neep fields by the sea

The neep fields by the sea
by Violet Jacob

Ye’d wonder foo the seasons rinn
This side o Tweed and Tyne;
The hairst’s awa; October-month hairst – harvest
Cam in a whilie syne,
But the stooks are oot in Scotland yet, (stooks – sheafs)
There’s green upon the tree,
And oh! What grand’s the smell ye’ll get
Frae the neep fields by the sea!

The lang lift lies aboon the warld, (lift – sky)
On ilka windless day (ilka – every)
The ships creep doon the ocean line
Sma on the band o grey;
And the lang sigh heaved upon the sand
Comes pechin up tae me (pechin – panting)
And speels the cliffs tae whaur ye stand (speels – climbs)
In the neep fields by the sea.
Oh, time’s aye slow, though time gangs fast
When siller’s aa tae mak, (siller – money)
And deeth, afore ma poke is foo (poke – bag)
May grip me in the back;
But ye’ll tak ma banes and my Sabbath braws,
Gin deeth’s ower smairt for me,
And set them up amang the shaas
In the lang raas plantit atween the waas,
A tattie-doolie for fleggin craas (tattie-doolie – scarecrow), (fleggin – scaring)
In the neep fields by the sea.