The Whin

One night while I was walking by Fiddlenaked park,
I thought that I heard voices, so ghostly in the dark,
They seemed to come from nowhere, I couldn't see a thing,
Their chanting did surround me in the dark notes that they sung.

I carried on along the Northburn, I was light upon my feet,
I came across old Maggie Ramsay, she was sitting on her seat,
She scowled at me through the blackest eyes that I have ever seen,
How dare I walk the Northburn when it belonged to she.

I bade a goodnight welcome and doffed to her, my hat,
I gave my warmest smile then and asked if we could chat,
I sought her wisened wisdom to help me face my sins,
She bade that I should sit with her by the golden-yellow whin.

I asked this haggard spey wife, my future to foretell,
Threw my coin into the Penny and wished the old witch well,
Then she told me a story, the likes that I had never heard,
I was mesmerised by her tale and hung on every word.

She told of the gray lady who bided in the woods,
Who cried the tears of heartache, where once an old house stood,
Her wails were heard to split the night, so eerie was her cry,
That if I should hear her banshee wail then I would surely die.

She bid me then, a fond farewell and sent me on my way,
When I came across three miners who'd risen from their grave,
They never seemed to notice me as I passed on through them,
But a shiver chilled me to the bone and filled me with their pain.

I heard the march of soldiers led by the Bonnie Prince,
It seems they'd drunk the town dry, celebrating Prestonpans,
They came down from the Burnie Brae and marched across the Moss,
I watched the splendid cavalcade, it filled my heart with awe.

And then I saw a dark robbed monk a-wandering by Kippsbyre,
On his journey home from merchanting, his feet covered in mire,
His pack-horse, it was laden from the mills at Carnbruth,
His eyes were dark and sunken and he looked for all like death.

I turned then to head back home but I could not find my way,
I was lost among the woodbine where the Northburn wound its way,
Destined to roam forevermore, penalised for my sins,
The banshee wail condemned my soul to wander through the whin.