Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
It s an owercome soothRobert Louis Stevenson (18501894)
I
And it brooks wi’ nae denial,
That the dearest friends are the auldest friends,
And the young are just on trial.
And it ’s him that has bereft me;
For the surest friends are the auldest friends,
And the maist o’ mines hae left me.
And fools to take and break them;
But the nearest friends are the auldest friends,
And the grave ’s the place to seek them.