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    • AxlsFavoriteRose

      Upon that night, when fairies light
      On Cassilis Downans dance,
      Or over the lays, in splendid blaze,
      On sprightly horses prance;
      Or for Colean the route is taken,
      Beneath the moon's pale beams;
      There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
      Among the rocks and streams
      To sport that night.

      Among the bonny winding banks,
      Where the river Doon runs clear,
      Where Bruce once ruled the martial ranks,
      And shook his Carrick spear,
      Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
      Together did convene,
      To burn their nuts, and pile their shocks of wheat,
      And have their Halloween
      Full of fun that night.

      The lasses feet, and cleanly neat,
      More strong than when they're fine;
      Their faces happy, full sweetly show,
      Hearts faithful, warm, and kind;
      The lads say true, with love knots,
      Well knotted on their garters,
      Some surprisingly shy, and some with chatter,
      Cause the girls' hearts to get startin'
      Whiles fast at night.

      Then, first and foremost, through the cabbage,
      Their stocks of wheat are sought at once;
      They touch their own, and grasp and choose,
      For very strong and straight ones.
      Poor fellow Will fell off the drift,
      And wander'd through the cabbage,
      And pulled, for want o' better shift,
      A cabbage like a pig's-tail,
      So bent that night.

      Then, straight or crooked, earth or none,
      They roar and cry all throughout there;
      The very little children, toddling, run,
      With stocks out over their shoulders;
      And if the custard's sweet or sour.
      With pocketknives they taste them;
      Thereafter cozily, about the door,
      With clever care, they've placed them
      To lie that night.

      The girls steal away from among them all
      To pull their stalks of corn:
      But Rab slips out, and plays about,
      Behind the very large thorn:
      He grabbed onto Nelly hard and fast;
      Loud screamed all the other girls;
      But the grain at the top of her stalk was lost,
      When cuddling in the haystacks
      With him that night.

      The old guidwife's well-hoarded nuts,
      Are round and round divided,
      And many lads' and lasses' fates
      Are there that night decided:
      Some kindle cosily, side by side,
      And burn together trimly;
      Some start away, with saucy pride,
      And jumpout over the chimney
      Full high that night.

      Jean slips in between with careful eye;
      What it was she wouldn't tell;
      But this is Jock, and this is me,
      She says in to herself:
      He drunk over her, and she over him,
      As they would never more part;
      Till, puff! he started up the hide and seek,
      And Jean had a a sore heart
      To see't that night.

      Poor Willie, with his little cabbage,
      Was stuck with prudish Mallie;
      And Mallie, no doubt, thought it rude,
      To be thought a match for Willie;
      Mall's nut leaped out with prideful fling,
      And her own fit it, inpertinent;
      While Willie laughed, and swore by jing,
      'Twas just the way he wanted
      To be that night.

      Nell had the haystacks in her mind,
      She puts herself and Rob in;
      In loving bliss they sweetly join,
      Till white in ashes they're sobbing;
      Nell's heart was dancing at the view,
      She whisper'd Rob to look for it:
      Rob, stealthily, aprised her bonny mouth,
      Full cosy in the nook for it,
      Unseen that night.

      But Merran sat behind their backs,
      Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
      She leaves them chattering at their tales,
      And slips out by herself:
      She through the yard the nearest takes,
      And to the fire goes then,
      And in the dark grabbed for the box,
      And in the blue-spell throws then,
      Right afraid that night.

      · 0 replies
    • darknightfan

      I just want to go back to the show ):
      · 0 replies
    • rocknroll41

      RIP Pete Burns. You spun me right round...
      · 0 replies
    • AxlsFavoriteRose

      Spirits of the Dead  

      Edgar Allan Poe 
      Thy soul shall find itself alone
      ’Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
      Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
      Into thine hour of secrecy.

      Be silent in that solitude,
      Which is not loneliness — for then
      The spirits of the dead, who stood
      In life before thee, are again
      In death around thee, and their will
      Shall overshadow thee; be still.

      The night, though clear, shall frown,
      And the stars shall not look down
      From their high thrones in the Heaven
      With light like hope to mortals given,
      But their red orbs, without beam,
      To thy weariness shall seem
      As a burning and a fever
      Which would cling to thee for ever.

      Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
      Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
      From thy spirit shall they pass
      No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

      The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
      And the mist upon the hill
      Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
      Is a symbol and a token.
      How it hangs upon the trees,
      A mystery of mysteries!
      · 0 replies
    • J Dog

      Eric B and Rakim reunite for 2017! #paidinfull
      · 0 replies