I Ken Something

English translation immediately below

What gars ye sing sae, birdie, 
   As gien ye war lord o' the lift? 
On breid ye're an unco sma' lairdie, 
   But in hicht ye've a kingly gift! 

A' ye hae to coont yersel rich in
   'S a wee mawn o' glory-motes! 
The whilk to the throne ye're aye hitchin
   Wi a lang tow o' sapphire notes! 

Ay, yer sang's the sang o' an angel
   For a sinfu' thrapple no meet, 
Like the pipes til a heavenly braingel
   Whaur they dance their herts intil their feet! 

But though ye canna behaud, birdie, 
   Ye needna gar a'thing wheesht! 
I'm noucht but a hirplin herdie, 
   But I hae a sang i' my breist! 

Len' me yer throat to sing throu, 
   Len' me yer wings to gang hie, 
And I'll sing ye a sang a laverock to cow, 
   And for bliss to gar him dee!

I Know Something

What makes you sing so, birdie,
   As though you were lord of the sky?
By breadth you're a very small laird,
   But in height you've a kingly gift!

All you have to count yourself rich in
   Is a small basket of glory-motes!
Which to the throne you're always hitching
   With a long tow of sapphire notes!

Yes, your song's the song of an angel
   For a sinful throat not meet,
Like the pipes to a heavenly revel
   Where they dance their hearts into their feet!

But though you can't hold back, birdie,
   You needn't make everything hush!
I'm naught but a hobbling herdsman,
   But i have a song in my breast!

Lend me your throat to sing through,
   Lend me your wings to go high,
And i'll sing you a song a skylark to cow,
   And for bliss to make him die!