Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A' LANE, LANEY!, by JOHN TAYLOR (1837-)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A' LANE, LANEY!, by                    
First Line: I've had my share o' sorrows; they've been neither few nor sma'
Last Line: He winna leave the bairnie his wee lea lane!
Subject(s): Children; Parents; Childhood; Parenthood


I'VE had my share o' sorrows; they've been neither few nor sma'
But noo I feel sae canty that I clean look owre them a';
For I've a kindly wifie, and a hoosie a' my ain,
And a bonnie wee bit bairnie that will soon can rin his lane; --
It's a' lane, laney, and it's a' lane, lane,
Frae his faither to his mither his wee lea lane!

The king I dinna envy, though he wears a gowden croun,
For crouns are heavy bonnets, and micht weigh a body doun;
And thrones hae nae sic comfort as my cosie muckle chair,
When I watch the wee bit tottum toddlin' back and forrit there; --
It's a' lane, laney, and it's a' lane,
He's worth the wealth o' kingdoms his wee lea lane!

If e'er I'm dull or weary when the lang day's wark is through,
On my heart the bairnie's lauchin fa's refreshin' as the dew;
I'm sure he makes me nobler -- could I e'er for very shame
Dae wrang and think to tak' him on my knee when I gaed hame? --
It's a' lane, laney, and it's a' lane, lane,
He's just a very blessin' his wee lea lane!

Bright visions o' the future in my fancy whiles I see;
If spared to grow man muckle, wha kens what he yet may be?
Yet neither fame nor fortune may be in the Maker's plan,
But oh! I fain would see him a guid-hearted honest man; --
It's a' lane, laney, and it's a' lane, lane,
A joy to a' that ken him, his wee lea lane!

What wealth could gie sic pleasure to his mither, or to me,
As the kindly earnest glancin' o' his wonder-lichted e'e?
Oh, earth to some folk's fancy may be desert cauld an' stern,
To me it's just like Eden wi' the wife and that bit bairn; --
It's a' lane, laney, and it's a' lane, lane,
The sunshine o' oor summer his wee lea lane!

But summer wears to winter -- the leaf fa's frae the rose,
And sorrow comes unbidden, and the day draws to a close;
And I often think how eerie -- if the wife and me were gane --
Would be the wee bit bairnie in the world left alane; --
It's a' lane, laney, it's a' lane, lane,
Baith faitherless and mitherless, his wee lea lane!

I ken there's kindly neebors that wad tak him to their fauld,
But the stranger's bread is bitter, and his bed is hard an' cauld;
Yet there's Ane aye watchin' owre us wi' a love abune compare,
That mak's the wee bit lammies a' His ain peculiar care;
I ken that I can trust Him, and I needna mourn or maen,
He winna leave the bairnie his wee lea lane!





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