At dawn of day we sped away
On the path that skirts the mine hill-side,
Whaur Elvan Burn, wi' mony a turn,
Gangs singing tae the River Clyde.
"When lazy loons did lie an' snore
An' dream the gowden dawn away
We lap the burn at Greenshields' door,
An' breisted bauld the Wungate brae."[1]
Then owre the fence an' through the pass,
That's cleft atween the Lowther hills,
Whaur mountain air, sae pure an' rare,
Blaws free frae Pedan's crystal rills.
Doon Pedan's vale straucht for Powtrail
We gaed, an' in oor min's nae doot
There was but what wi' flee or worm
We'd land some bonnie speckled troot.
The sun shone bricht, oor herts were licht,
We knew that we were better far
Away frae city's din an' strife,
Whaur Powtrail mingles wi' the Daur.
Three fishers keen as e'er were seen,
Tae throw a line on loch or stream,
Noo plied their rods wi' muckle skill,
An' sune their creels began tae fill.
We fished the Annershy an' Squaw
Frae noon weel on tae evenin' fa',
Likewise Glenocher an' Glengeath,
An' then we tramped across the heath,
Tae whaur the Toll Bar stood alane,
Like oasis in a desert plain,
Whaur weary fishers meet thegither,
Tae rest or join the sang an' blether.
Like nectar was the landlord's cheer,
Glenlivet, stout, an' reaming beer;
But ere the drink could tak' oor brain
We wisely took the road for hame.
Eicht lang Scots miles, an' uphill road,
Besides o' fish a heavy load,
We stauchert on wi' mony a grane,
Vowing we'd ne'er gang back again.
But e'er a week its coorse had run,
We thocht on naething but the fun
We had on Clyde's clear sparklin' river,
An' aff' we gaed as keen as ever.
[1] From Reid.