[A composite volume : containing The ballads and songs of Ayrshire ...

•
THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.
have to thank her (in the spirit of an antiquary) for recording so pleasantly
as she has done, the now almost forgotten practice of the spindle.
There are several very pretty lays, or songs, in Miss Aird's
volmne.
Of all who have recently sung of " The Auld Kii-k-Yard,"
we ceitainly think her lines the sweetest. We quote the piincipal;
—
; ; ;
It has a wrinkled face.
The auld kirk-yard
Oh ! many a tale it hath,
The auld kirk-yard.
Of life's
i In the auld kirk-yard.
The sire, with silver hair ;
The mother's heart of care
THE AULD KIRK-YARD.
** Where heaves the turf in mauy a mouldering heap."
Calm sleep the village dead,
In the auld kirk-yard
But softl)^, slowly, tread,
In tlie auld kirk-yard ;
For the weary, weary, rest,
Wi' the green turf on their breast.
And the ashes o' the blest
Flower the auld kirk-yard.
And tears, of years, we trace
In the auld kirk-yard ;
Strifes, to the earth unknown.
Revealed to God alone.
Hid, by the tribute stone.
In the auld kirk-yard.
crooked, thorny path
To the auld kirk-yard.
But mortality's thick gloom
Clouds the sunny world's bloom
Veils the mystery of doom.
In the auld kirk-yard.
A thousand memories spring.
In the auld kirk-yard.
Though Time's death-brooding wing
Shade the auld kirk-yard.
The light of many a hearth.
Its music and its mirth.
Sleep in the deep dark earth
Of the auld kirk-yard.
Nae dreams disturb their sleep
In the auld kirk-yard :
They hear nae kindred weep
The young, the gay, the fair,
Crowd the auld kirk-yard.
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