The ferox rins in rough Loch Awe, <br />A weary cry frae ony toun; <br />The Spey, that loups o'er linn and fa', <br />They praise a' ither streams aboon; <br />They boast their braes o' bonny Doon: <br />Gie ME to hear the ringing reel, <br />Where shilfas sing, and cushats croon <br />By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel! <br /> <br />There's Ettrick, Meggat, Ail, and a', <br />Where trout swim thick in May and June; <br />Ye'll see them take in showers o' snaw <br />Some blinking, cauldrife April noon: <br />Rax ower the palmer and march-broun, <br />And syne we'll show a bonny creel, <br />In spring or simmer, late or soon, <br />By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel! <br /> <br />There's mony a water, great or sma', <br />Gaes singing in his siller tune, <br />Through glen and heugh, and hope and shaw, <br />Beneath the sun-licht or the moon: <br />But set us in our fishing-shoon <br />Between the Caddon-burn and Peel, <br />And syne we'll cross the heather broun <br />By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel! <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Deil take the dirty, trading loon <br />Wad gar the water ca' his wheel, <br />And drift his dyes and poisons doun <br />By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel!<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-the-tweed/
