The Auld Mid Raw                           J Thomson/I H Scott

This life is but a shiftin' scene,

The world gaes circlin' roon' , 

And time's brought many changes 

To oor ain auld toon.  

New fashions tak' the causa croon,  

The auld gae to the wa' 

And we maun bid a last farewell 

To the auld Mid Raw.

What memories crood upon my brain,

Familiar forms I see,  

The auld sae decent and sae douce,  

The young sae fu' o' glee.  

How mony buirdly chiels were born,

And lasses trig and braw,  

Aneath the pendit arches  

0' the auld Mid Raw.

Oh! Had thae rugged stanes a tongue

What sermons they could preach.

What tales the mouldenng rafters tell

Had they the power o' speech.  

When news o' Rodden's day o' dule

Made dark baith hut and ha;  

And hapless widows mourned the brave

In the auld Mid Raw.

In Winter nights when Johnnie Frost

Hath sealed baith dub and mire, 

The yoke-a-tulie rankit up,  

And doon the Loan like fire,  

The leader of the train got oft  

A crackit croon to claw, 

Against the battered gable  

0' the auld Mid Raw.

0' ruthless time; your hand has press'd

Fu* heavy on my brow, 

And left me little of the past  

That can gi'e pleasure now, 

But I wad gi'e the gathered gear  

That's in yon lordly ha'  

To be a laddie racing roond  

The auld Mid Raw.

Away, away, fond memory, 

Improvement's march, go on: 

Why should one relic of the past 

Be left to stand alone?  

Old age may sigh, though youth may laugh, 

As cherished idols fa';  

Farewell, Farewell, to hearth and hame

In the auld Mid Raw.