Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta’en
By whom, know I not; ‘lack! am I of twain
And as a crux – cede I my words
Fro my heart wilt thou ne’er
Have I been ‘sooth sinsyne
Be left without – come
Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine
Ryking for me
Ryking for thee
“List and heed”, thou say’st
Wistful, whistful
Chancing to lure
Chancing to lure
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown ’tis
Dodge na ‘way herefro, do come here in eath
Mayhap lured by the scent of lote
‘Od! – the foetid – eft hie back I mote
For what I did my soul atrounced
How I wish for thee again
O! do believe me, ’twasn’t a frounce
Will I give thee it: troth
Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine
Ryking for me
Ryking for thee
“List and heed”, thou say’st
Wistful, whistful
Chancing to lure
Chancing to lure
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown ’tis
Dodge na ‘way herefro, do come here in eath
