THERE were three kings cam frae the East; They spiered in ilka clachan: "O, which is the wey to Bethlehem, My bairns, sae bonnily lachin'?" O neither young nor auld could tell; They trailed till their feet were weary. They followed a bonny gowden starn, That shone in the lift sae cheery. The starn stude ower the ale-hoose byre Whaur the stable gear was hingin'. The owsen mooed, the bairnie grat, The kings begoud their singin'. |