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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.


The Lass o’ Kintore

By William Thom (1798?–1848)

AT hame or afield I am cheerless an’ lone,

I ’m dull on the Ury, an’ droop by the Don;

Their murmur is noisy, and fashions to hear,

An’ the lay o’ the lintie fa’s dead on my ear.

I hide frae the morn, and whaur naebody sees;

I greet to the burnie, an’ sich to the breeze;

Though I sich till I ’m silly, an’ greet till I dee,

Kintore is the spot in this world for me.

But the lass o’ Kintore, O, the lass o’ Kintore,

Be warned awa’ frae the lass o’ Kintore;

There ’s a love-luring look that I ne’er kent afore

Steals cannily hame to the heart at Kintore.

They bid me forget her, O, how can it be?

In kindness or scorn she ’s ever wi’ me;

I feel her fell frown in the lift’s frosty blue,

An’ I weel ken her smile in the lily’s saft hue.

I try to forget her, but canna forget,

I ’ve liket her lang, an’ I aye like her yet;

My poor heart may wither, may waste to its core,

But forget her, O never! the lass o’ Kintore!

O, the wood o’ Kintore, the holmes o’ Kintore!

The love-lichtin’ ee that I ken at Kintore;

I ’ll wander afar, an’ I ’ll never look more

On the gray glance o’ Peggy, or bonnie Kintore!