Don't Believe Everything You Hear

 

 So. Share our works today.

I originally wasn't going to.

But I figured - why not??

The first story is another scene from Willem's universe. There are a LOT of scenes in that one, but I was in a happy mood. Also, I didn't want to post something that needed a lot of explanation....

The second one is from Adam's universe and has one of my favourite written scenes. My other favourite scene is the one where I murder Jason. *evil laughter* Spoilers sweetie....  (or is it... *grins*)

The next is actually two stories but....I posted them together because why not. Life loves to watch mortal television shows and gets very invested into the plots and characters. And I was annoyed with SPN again even though I don't watch the thing....  Death is the eldest brother, and he watches the others. Life CAN be responsible but....he rarely wants to be, especially around Death.

 Then two poems from the anthology. They're easy to write....

Behind Closed Doors

c. 2000

“You wear this hat.”

“Perhaps I want that one.” He pointed at the green hat sitting behind the blue one she had picked out.

She shook her head, pushing the chosen hat back to him. “This hat.”

With a sigh of long-suffering but a smile of pleasure, he placed the hat atop his head. Looking back to her for approval, he spread his arms and gestured.

She giggled, nodding happily.

“Wonderful.”

“You serve now.”

“That is the hostess' job, liebchen.”

She shook her head soberly. “It's Mama's job.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You have to do it.”

“Stenka, you try me...” He tucked his feet closer beneath him, tugging the plastic tea tray closer to him. Pouring little more than swallows of lemonade in the doll-sized china cups, he absently reached out to tug the bowl of jelly babies away from her when she reached out for them. “Wait to be served, ja?”

She nodded again, eagerly leaning forward and watching him pour the 'tea'.

A cup and saucer was soon distributed to the various toy and human guests, and the drink was accented with the candy. Willem grimaced at the amount of sugar within the lemonade, but drunk it nonetheless while Stasya happily carried on a conversation between two dolls while the tea party was played out.

He watched her, occasionally taking a sip from his empty cup or answering one of the toys when the girl turned them to him. He watched her.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have her. He hadn't wanted her.

After only a year, he could never give her up.

He never wanted or expected a family. They were liabilities – weaknesses. Any comfort or pleasure they afforded could not make it worthwhile. Finding pleasure in affairs and single nights was always his modus operendi. Finding comfort in the only family he had that had adopted him was all he would allow. He would have no other family – he lived for his work.

And now he had a little girl. Not a daughter – she was Ezekiel's daughter and not his whatever may come. He could accept her as a neice, but he could not be a father. He was not fit to be. He wasn't really fit to be an uncle either – but he could muddle through that.

He was a criminal. He broke the law. He dabbled in dangerous things. His hands were dirtier than he liked, but he would undo none of it. There was a satisfaction in what he did, in how he did it. There was a pleasure in his accomplishments that outdid any he could find in a companion.

He was not a father. But he was expected to raise a child. He was expected to take responsibility for another being and shape her, guide her, protect her. He was expected to love her.

He adored her. 'Sveta' she was often called – 'light'. There was no darkness in her, no sadness. The only heartbreak she remembered was when she wasn't allowed another cookie or when she couldn't find her toy. She had lost her father, but it was something that didn't matter for long – he was 'with mama'. She was staying with her Uncle that had raised her almost as much as her Papa had. She was still 'home'.

It terrified him, being left with the girl. It wasn't what he would have wished. He had no experience with children – no experience with good. The highlight of her day was to sit in the window seat with a book and tell stories to her doll; the highlight of his day was to arrange a monetary transfer safely. They were from two different worlds.

But he wouldn't give her up. It was too late for that now. He would give everything for her – and he half expected she knew that.

He glanced up as the door to his office opened, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound. The girl didn't stop playing, and the intruder didn't look up from the paper he was reading. For a minute, the only sound was that of Stasya talking.

“Adolf.”

“Ja.” He didn't look up from the paper, crossing the room to sit in an armchair beside the wall.

She finally looked up, dropping her toy and jumping up to run to the man and wrap her arms around his waist. “Dolly!”

He dropped the paper in surprise and then finally looked to his boss in confusion. “Karg?”

Willem didn't stand, almost pouring himself another glass of lemonade but choosing a piece of candy instead. “Ja?”

“Karg,” he stood, firmly detaching the girl from him and pulling free when she tried to drag him over to the tea party table. “Your meeting?”

“I am engaged, ja?”

“You are sitting on the floor with dolls.”

He took another piece of candy.

“You are a grown man.”

“Uncle Villain is having tea with me – come on, Dolly!”

“I also have the better nickname...”

Adolf groaned and pulled free as the girl tried again to pull him over. Pouting, she ran back to Willem and sat on his lap.

“He won't play with me!”

“Adolf is very busy – if he read the message, he would know that he could have slept another hour.”

She frowned in confusion. “But it's almost lunch! He would miss it!”

“Ja.”

“Why would he do that?” She was horrified at the prospect of sleeping through a meal. “Is he sick?”

Willem chuckled. “Nein – he is tired. He has been working hard.”

“Doing what?”

“Things for me.”

The man in question rubbed his forehead. “I am going back to bed...”

“But lunch!”

“I'll eat later Stenka....”

“...Uncle Villain?”

He patted her on the back as his employee left. “He will be fine, darling. Now tell me more about this hat that your doll wants.”

“Mrs. Rosie!”

“Ja.” He let Stasya settle in on his lap again. “Tell me what hat Mrs. Rosie wants – would she like some more tea?”

Stasya nodded eagerly, and he smiled and he refilled the cups for her.

 Confession Confusion

“You didn't really kill him – did you, Adam?”

He glanced up from the paperwork he was working on. “Jason, your faith in my patience is overwhelming.”

“Because I have so many sterling examples of it, don't I...”

“Indeed. Do you not breathe?”

“I'm dying of laughter.”

“I'm glad.” He looked back to the papers.

“...Adam?”

He sighed. “No, Jason, I did not kill the officer. I merely showed him why someone else would if he did not apply himself.”

Jason winced. “It should count as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“No – that would be robbing a parent of their child by something that could have been easily avoided.” He glanced up again. “I should be given a medal – can you say that it has not improved your own reactions?”

“You put a loaded gun to my head and told me shoot!”

“And your immediate reaction was to disarm and pistol-whip me. If I had thought you would not pass with flying colours, I would have removed the clip from my gun. And allowed you to shoot at the target before testing you.”

“...you usually unload your gun?”

“I do not wish to kill them, Jason...”

“Should I be insulted or honoured that you didn't bother to consider my safety?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “You gave me a concussion – I think that I should have feared for mine.”

He thought a moment. “Alright, fair point – but you'd still be hard-pressed to prove that shooting me was in self-defense.”

“I would plead insanity. Justifiable, of course.”

It was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. “Do you remember that time you taught me how to swim?”

Adam frowned in thought, and then smiled slightly as he remembered.

His partner grimaced. “You would remember that fondly...”

“You had whined all summer that you didn't know how to swim – I was merely assisting you.”

“You pushed me into the deep end of the pool!”

He shrugged. “You learnt.”

He groaned, and then stood up. “Do you want some coffee or something while I'm gone?”

“Sans nefarious substances?”

“You're getting my snacks mixed up with your own.”

“Ah – of course. Mine are edible.”

“Fine – be that way. See if I offer again.”

“...Jason?”

He turned back, still smiling. “Yeah?”

“Some cold water would be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

He shrugged. “Sure! See you in an hour or so. Or more.”

“Don't get lost...”

“I won't. There will be a mugging turned kidnapping and I shall have to rush off heroically to save the day and the beautiful maiden.”

He shook his head absently as he returned his attention to his paperwork. “Alright, Jason. Have fun storming the castle.” He could hear Jason sighing in exasperation through his grin as he pulled a new requisition form towards him as well.

He worked in silence for nearly a half hour, working through several forms and reports. The background noise of the station around him was relaxing; but he was grateful for his private, walled-off section. He grimaced as he typed another report in – too much noise was only a distraction. He frowned in thought as he eyed the pile of reports still waiting on Jason's desk – the reports that Jason would likely put off until the very last minute and then rush through. Perhaps he could stay late again...

“So, I heard from somewhere that you killed someone before.”

He didn't look up. “And how long did you stand beside the water cooler to hear that bit of information?”

The larger detective didn't answer that. “It made me think just how someone like you could have such a reputation.”

“Is it surprising that I exist?”

“I mean – you struggle away with all this paperwork, so far behind... And yet there's a nasty rumour going around that you're a killer.”

Adam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, mentally associating the man's voice with....nails on a chalkboard or cats yowling. Or worse...

“And you've tired yourself out, just sitting here at a desk...”

“Against seemingly overwhelming evidence, there are exceptions to the rule that might makes right – occasionally, a task may be accomplished by brains rather than brawn.” He looked up. “It is astounding what one can accomplish with paperwork.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. But tell me – was it self-defense? Manslaughter? An unrelated accident? Coincidence?”

Adam stared at the man for a moment. “First degree murder.”

He was quiet, and then burst into laughter. “You? A murderer?”

He shrugged. “Paperwork is an amazing thing.”

He sobered. “If you were really a killer, someone would have caught you by now – that's just how things work.”

“That is how it works for those that have been caught. If one is not caught, then how do you know how many have gotten away with it?”

He opened his mouth to answer; but then shut it, frowning in confusion. “Fine. Prove it. If you got away with murder, how did you do it and who'd you kill?”

Adam hesitated, and the bigger detective grinned in triumph.

“You can't, can you – it's all just made up. Another one of your mind games or something.”

Adam grit his teeth together, abruptly pushing back a little from his desk; glaring at the smug detective towering above him. “There were a few. Shapely, most of them – women that men would not think to look at openly in the street, but were certainly pleased enough to think about alone. All women in the night – some in passing, and some were devoted...” He pretended to think for a moment, “care.” He smiled slightly at his audience's shocked and slightly disgusted look. “A simple matter – a word in an ear, a hand leading one to a concealed place, and then?” He leaned back in his seat. “A sharp knife and so much red blood.”

He held up his hands. “The knife – it was this long. Over six inches, and it made the most beautiful of pictures; brought out the most brilliant colours. I can still feel it within my grasp – hard and silent.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Firearms may be the apparent weapon of choice in murders – but a knife? It leaves memories.”

“You're sick.”

“Am I? Perhaps I am...” He tilted his head to the side. “There was one lovely girl – Mary, I believe her name was? Perhaps Moira... She was beautiful – really quite attractive. Her hair...” His hand reached up to lightly trace out something in the air. “Auburn in some lights, nearly black in others – eye-catching to say the least. She lived alone in a neat little room – and the smell.” He closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap again. “Copper and metal – blood painting the walls and the furniture wherever it could reach.”

The detective had stepped back.

Adam opened his eyes and abruptly leaned forward, not bothering to hide his satisfaction at being able to startle the other man. “And I was never caught. I wrote the police, I left enough clues – but they never found me. I did nothing differently – merely continued my life. They suspected it was a butcher, an officer, a lover, a doctor – but none suspected me.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Perhaps I should start again sometime...”

“You are twisted, Adam. “

“So I have often been told.”

He grit his teeth and stepped forward again. “If you told me this to scare me-”

“It would be a pleasant bonus, certainly.”

“You're really mistaken.” He reached out and slammed Adam's head onto his desk, holding it down as he grabbed a pair of cuffs and crossed around the desk to handcuff the smaller man. He was still disgusted, but he was smiling again. “You're really dumb enough to confess to a cop just because he jibes you?” He jerked Adam up. “I'm sure there'll be a cop somewhere thrilled to find a cold case like that all closed up.”

*-*-*-*

“Hey, Patrick,” He frowned at the files that were stacked around the large detective's desk, “Did you get a case transfer or something as soon as I left? You've got the remnants of the Black Forest there!”

He barely acknowledged the returning detective, still sifting through the much smaller pile of unseen files. “Or something...”

He tilted his head. “Or it's the tower of Piza...”

The bigger man glanced up. “Where've you been, anyway?”

He straightened up with a shrug, setting his coffee on his own desk and then crossing to set a large bottle of water on his partner's. “There's this thing called recreational walks – it's good for the heart and for the mind. It's really good – you should try it sometime!”

“Yeah – you keep that on your side of the room, alright?”

“Touchy any? Did I mention that it also makes you smile?” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “I don't know why I drink this stuff...” He wandered across to look at the files Patrick was still looking through. “Cold cases? Are you really that bored?”

He frowned at the file, shutting it with a snap and dropping it in the 'done' pile.

Jason froze as the pile nearly tipped over.

“Hey – you ever hear of a really messed up murder? A bunch of girls?”

“I've heard of a few – which?”

“Unsolved. Some pretty girls all cut up with a...” He paused to think, “six inch knife, one red head dismembered in her room, suspects had medical experience, there was a note to the cops – anything ring a bell?”

He frowned in thought now, glancing through a folder of his own. “It sounds rather familiar – did you think to ask Adam? He would probably know exactly which one you're referencing.”

He dropped the last unread file on his desk and leaned back with a grimace. “I'm sure he could.”

Jason sighed. “I know you can't stand him for whatever reason – but he is a good detective. You've got to at least give him a chance.”

He sneered. “You're partner is the killer, Jason – you just never noticed this.”

He stared at the other man in shock. “I'm sorry – I thought you said that Adam was the killer? As in the man that murdered a bunch of women? As in an apparent serial killer?”

“He confessed. So smart he thought he'd get away with it – wanted to brag about it, prove he'd done it. Forgot that confessing to a cop isn't smart.”

“I would say not...” He frowned; and then stepped forward, pulling the other detective's mouse and keyboard towards him and opening a browser on his computer. “Pardon me, I might be able to help. This case does sound quite familiar...”

He pushed back a little bit, letting Jason work. “You're not surprised – already suspect something of your partner?”

“Hardly. I know him too well to suspect anything. Especially something like that.” He clicked on a link and scanned over the page for a moment before gesturing Patrick forward. “There you go: several women stabbed and mutilated with a knife longer than six inches, suspected medical experience, a note from the killer, and a red-haired girl killed in her rooms.”

“Yeah! That's it!”

He straightened up. “There's just a small catch, Patrick: these happened over a century ago. In the Victorian Era by Jack the Ripper – Adam might have confessed to them, but he certainly didn't commit them.”

The other detective stared at the screen in shock, and then looked up at Jason. “How-”

“I know Adam and I know how you two work. You can't stand him and he fights back the best way he knows: by basically making you look like an idiot in his mind. Now, please tell me you didn't hurt him too much?”

“He's a fool.”

Jason shrugged. “He's manipulative, certainly – but perhaps not quite a fool.” He frowned again as the teetering pile of folders finally toppled to the floor. “We'll take the rest of the day off – but please return these for the next person who needs to solve a case?”

*-*-*-*

“You're going to get yourself killed one of these days, Adam.” He fiddled with the lock for a moment, and finally forced it to turn. He shoved the door open, glancing at it. “Did he mean to hinder you with faulty equipment or something?”

Adam followed his gaze over the bars, silent.

Jason turned to his partner. “Let me guess: you're still cuffed.”

Adam stood wordlessly and turned around, waiting until his arms had been released to move again. “...Thank you.”

“What for this time?”

He turned back around, barely lifting his gaze from the ground. He searched for an answer, but couldn't find any specific thing; and he shrugged.

Jason rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder and tugging him close. “You might be immortal enough to have lived a century – but I doubt your desk was forgiving.”

“...did you remember my water?”

“Of course!” He tugged his friend from the cell. “But we'll have to get some more because if I have to see Patrick again I'm probably going to do something I regret.”

“Jason Alden regret something?” His voice was raspy, and Jason tried not to think about the hours Adam had spent down there. Even if Adam had fully expected it. “The world has ended.”

“You should be a comedian – you're just an endless joke.”

Adam smiled slightly, stretching his arms. “Would it be possible to guilt you into getting pizza and ice cream?”

“Guilt me? What do you have to guilt me with?”

“You left me to the mercies of that brute...”

“You baited him.”

“You have no evidence as to that fact – I could have been seriously injured.”

“Adam. If you're ever seriously injured, it means you didn't fight back. And then I'm locking you in an asylum under suicide watch.”

“How touching.”

“I thought so to.” He paused. “But we can get pizza and ice cream as long as I don't have to eat mint.”

“I wouldn't dream of it...”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” He grinned and tugged Adam close again. “And a movie?”

“You shan't pick.”

“You're no fun...”

Adam smiled. “It depends upon your definition, I suppose.”

"How did they kill Death?"

His hand tightened on the cane once and then he lightly set it beside him, pointedly looking out at the dark lake and not down the street.

"Rings, alright. Horsemen without horses, alright. No one staying dead, alright. But killing Death?" There was a sigh and then a falter in the approaching footsteps as the speaker dropped his hands from his head and looked up.

"Oh, goody - you can explain it to me."

Death sighed, snatching his cane out of the way before his brother dropped on it. "Watch where you are going." He shoved Life back as his brother almost crashed into him on the bench. "Calm yourself! One would think you were a hyper toddler rather than a supernatural being!"

Life shrugged. "You only live once!"

He pointedly did not answer.

"So, say there's some guy that makes a deal with you -"

"A deal."

Life waved it off. "It's hypothetical - bear with me. So he makes a deal and you give him your Blade -"

"Brother, what have you gotten into?" He reached over and felt his brother's forehead. "I hardly thought that Shades could fall ill."

"Hypothetical." He stressed each syllable, almost bouncing off the bench.

Death drew back a little more from him.

"But the guy cuts you in half with the Blade! And you disintegrate into ash! At least they got that right..... But then nothing happens! How do you kill Death?"

"He would take my place. Planning something, Brother mine?"

"What? No!" He grimaced. "To dark and..." He gestured at the younger's clothes. "Backwards."

Death rolled his eyes. "The fashion is not dictated - yours is abhorrent."

"But could you?"

"Certainly."

Life froze. "You could kill yourself?"

"No, of course not - don't be silly. I'm Death - that's rather contradictory."

"But you-"

He sighed. "I can certainly change garments, Life - garments." He lifted his hand and straightened his fingers, tiugging lightly at the lace for a moment. "Were another to turn my Blade against me, they would take my Place."

"......you can change?"

"If someone is idiotic enough and determined enough to end me, yes." He glanced over at the lighter Shade. "But I am hardly easy to kill."

"What about the ash?"

"My body is several millenia old - it's rather decomposed at this point."

Life grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"You asked."

"I did - but you didn't have to be so graphic." He frowned, and then lightly reached over and poked his brother's arm. When nothing happened, he did it again; and then fell off the bench in surprise when his brother's form shifted to that of a skeleton.

Death's grin was almost feral, and immensely amused as he pulled Life back to his feet.

"So. If you gave someone your Blade and they killed you with it, you'd be dead. But then who's Death?"

Death tilted his head to the side. "Just what have you been up to? You're unstable..."

Life grinned, almost as darkly as his brother. "Jelly Beans."

Death blinked, and then dropped his head into his hands. "You were banned from those for a reason."

Life was completely unrepentant, and turned to wander towards the water.

"I've a good mind to let you go drown yourself..."

"I can't die!" He called back in sing-song.

Death rolled his eyes.

Life disappeared beneath the water's surface, and Death stood, slowly walking back down the street.

Moments later, Life walked beside him again, still frowning.

The night was quiet and quite cold - almost clammy. Life absently rubbed his arms while his brother breathed in deeply, relishing the weather.

"Why don't they ever adapt me?"

Death sighed again as the silence was broken. "You. Are whining."

"But they adapt you! Poor little me.... I'm hurt."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a child."

"I'm wounded." He laid a hand over his heart mournfully. "do they not know I exist?"

"No."

"Why not? I'm just as important as you!"

He glanced over, swinging his cane loosely. "Oh, Brother...."

"Even our sisters have parts!"

"Whatever has prompted this?"

Life looked ahead innocently. "Prompted what?"

Death swung the cane against his brother's shins.

"Ow! What was that for! It was some human's show!"

Death rolled his eyes again. "You have nothing better to do?"

"Horrid series."

"Did you expect else?"

Life didn't answer, and Death closed his eyes for a moment.

Life grinned. "You love me. What would you do without me?"

"Be at peace." He pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. "Goodbye, Brother - it seems I have work."

 

His fingers tapped on the railing, staring out across the water. Occasionally, the wind would blow the spray up from the waves and he'd grimace like some cat that had gotten misted.

He had been there for a while, leaning against the railing; and he almost missed the quiet click of the cane casually drawing near behind him.

"Brother."

He didn't answer, still frowning at the water.

The newcomer sighed, drawing even with him and glancing at the railing with unveiled disgust. "You have been out here for the entire day - it is a very rare thing for Life to stand still."

He glanced sideways, but still didn't answer.

The darker brother simply watched him, unmoving.

He finally rolled his eyes and straightened up. "How is it possible for someone to die and then come back?"

"Generally, it involves resuscitation-"

"Repeatedly. while immortal. No resuscitation - just resurrection."

Death blinked. "What have you been watching now, brother?"

Life layed a hand across his heart, turning to face his brother with a look of indignation. "I am hurt!"

"Not enough." He sighed and leaned on his cane when Life frowned in confusion. "You clearly have not learnt since the last time some mortal's form of entertainment posed an existential question that your intelligence could not handle."

He pouted. "Brother.... They're fun! So...imaginative in their -"

"They misrepresent everything. And then drive you to the brinks of insanity." His fingers tapped around the handle of his cane. "I wish you would leave them be."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Where is the sanity in partaking of something you know is only going to end in frustration and confusion for all involved?"

"But-"

Death sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I should have left you be...."

"....why did you come?"

"Because life stood still. Nothing changed. You succeeded in stopping all things."

"That's nice! Can I-"

"You will do no such thing."

Life rolled his eyes. He turned to walk away from the railing - Death slowly following him - when he suddenly spun back around, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Death! Brother! I'm bored - let's watch something."

The darker Shade faltered in his step. "I think that there are better applications of our time. And attention. And mental stability."

"Have you ever tried it?" He stumbled over a crack in his path and spun around to walk forward. "Death, Death - the things you miss..."

"I am secure in my apparent ignorance."

Life hesitated a moment, looking up as he considered something else. "What about deaths?"

".....Please do not make me seriously question your sanity any more than it is already my fate to do so, hm?"

"Character deaths - in books and films and series!"

"You spend entirely too much time with the humans, brother."

"I'm still undecided about that - they are amusing."

"So often I have heard you complain of the opposite - speak of the heartache they cause you."

"But the stories! The imagination!"

"...the frustration and grief that these stories cause you as well when they do not....end the way you wish?"

"That's not the point."

"If there was a shade overseeing the deaths of your beloved fictional characters, then it would be my angel."

Life stared at him blankly.

"You asked about deaths, Life."

"Right. Of course. I knew that."

Death didn't answer.

"...aren't you the angel of death?"

"Azriel oversees dreams, Life - the worlds not living and not dead. She is my messenger and my herald – I bring death and ends themselves; she merely speaks of it and warns of it."

He nodded, and then began bouncing slightly again. "come on! I think there's a screening -"

He stilled for a moment at the sudden change in topic. "No."

"There will be Skittles!"

"I believe that i have an occupation to busy myself with."

"I will eat all of the skittles."

Death sighed, closing his eyes. "Have you not anyone that you may visit? You are aware that should I walk on earth I will have to choose a host."

"....maybe we can watch it-" He fell silent as he realised that neither could visit the other's office. He scowled. "fine. I'll find someone else."

"Thank you."

"You only live once!"

Death stared at him. "I never lived at all."

Bonnie Life an' Canny Death

Bonnie lass an' canty lad -

I kenna wha are ye.

I dinna ken your canty laugh;

Na good nor evil see.

Mony men maun pass this way,

An' mony men maun be -

But I dinna ken onie like ye:

I kenna wha are ye.

Bonnie lass an' braw laddie -

I kenna wha are ye.

Sae lang it hae syne I're abread,

I hae na memory.

Mony fieres an' mony de'ils

I ken syne lang past lee -

But I kenna when we were acquent;

I kenna wha are ye.

Bonnie lass an' canny lad -

I kenna wha are ye.

The bairns and kye come back on braes,

Sair pows were unco wee.

Muckle birkies braw and canty

Sae unco auld maun die.

Laith I am to still say sae:

I kenna wha are ye.

 Traveller Come Home

Darling, Dear, mon halesome jo -

I spiers where hae ye been?

Hae ye tae ice, gae ye tae sand -

What wonders hae ye seen?

I hae tae lands I dinna ken,

I gae where nae ane lives.

I cannae tell ye o' my path:

Nae sense wad it give.

Darling, Dear mon halesome jo -

I spiers o' ye again:

Wha hae ye met in distant lands,

Where nae ane else hae been?

I kenna wha I saw therein,

Whether for guid or e'il -

Canny ghosts they were in passing:

I cannae describe them weel.

Darling, Dear, mon halesome jo -

I spiers this ane last time:

Hae ye onie wee news tae gie

O' a' the years lang syne?

I saw the world, the skies and braes -

I dinna shy from vale.

I cannae tell ye where I hae been:

A' words I try maun fail.

 ....so???