Lines on the Bairnies left by Mrs. MacKay, who died March 13, 1891.
Late wife of Mr. Wm. MacKay; Royal Mail driver, Wick and Dunbeath.
The wee little bairnies that's lost their dear mother
The bonnie wee bairnies aye wandering their lane.
They take up wi' nae ane but play aye together
Sae quiet and sae dowie since their mother is gone.
O where is there ane that waud speak roughly to them,
I'm sure he waud hae the hard heart o' a stane.
My eie never lichts on them, but my heart warms to them
I could greet for the bairnies whose mother is gone.
The cry rose at midnight the bridegroom was coming,
The friends gathered near, as a change they did see
On the pale dying mother, as she signed for the bairnies
To kiss them and clasp them, an fa' back to dee.
When at last a' was ower, and there fell a deep stillness,
Save when the onlookers waud make a sad moan.
The bairnies stood wondering their loss had they kenn'd o'
The maist had they mourned o'er their mother that's gone
The sire at his work will forget soon his sorrow;
Remembered the dead will, alas, be by few;
And the house look again as if nae change had happened
And the laugh and the crack, nae lang time will renew.
But the heart that is still will be missed by the bairies.
Will an eie like their mother's ere look on them again;
Will their faces be as blythesome, their laugh ring as merry
As when playing boot the doors wi' ther mother that's gone.
What she thocht of her bairnies - feared aught waud come ower them.
How she toiled for them sair baith by nicht and by day
I daresay she dreamt not they e'er waud be parted
And far less sae suddenly she waud be taken away
No word can reach her, come what like ower the bairnies
What e'er can betide them o' sorrow or pain.
They'll learn as they live, only ane in the world
Waed hae dee'd for her bairnies; twas their mother that's gone.
Their sweet wonsome faces seem mutely implorin'
To be kind to them now for the sake o' the dead.
When their mother's hands cauld in the grave lie and powerless
A fond mother's part would act in her stead.
O wha could refuse their mild plaintive petition
Or think their sweet faces could e'er plead in vain.
I think, frae her grave I e'er hear solemn voices
Saying, "Be gude to the bairnies whose mother is gone."
Gin they've health and be willing they'll get yet boon the world
Wha lives will them bonnie blythe lasses yet see
Ah! there's ane o' the dust if till then she had been spared
Had been full proud her ain grown up daughters to see.
May God guide them safely thro' snares and through dangers
And may never a blot their fair character stain
May they live, that in youth, middle life, or in auld age
When they dee, they may meet wi' their mother that's gone.
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