Highways for eident feet,
That hae their mile to gae;
But byways when spring is sweet,
And bloom is on the slae.
Highways till day is dune,
The girr o’gear to ca’;
But byways for star and mune,
And wooers twa by twa.
Highways for wheel and whip,
Till rigs are stibblet clear;
But byways for haw and hip,
When robin’s on the brier.
Aye it’s on the highways
The feck o’ life maun gang;
But aye its frae the byways
Comes hame the happy sang.
- Walter Wingate