INGENUOUS and charming, these opening verses of James Hogg's celebration of childhood capture the pleasures of the rural young in an age before organised games and electronic amusement.

No sign here of the dark dichotomies of the Ettrick Shepherd's Justified Sinner. Rab Wilson, a frequent contributor to this space, was recently appointed as the first James Hogg writer-in-residence in the Borders.

A BOY'S SONG

Where the pools are bright and deep

Where the grey trout lies asleep

Up the river and o'er the lea

That's the way for Billy and me

Where the blackbird sings the latest

Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest

Where the nestlings plentiest be

That's the way for Billy and me

Where the mowers mow the cleanest

Where the hay lies thick and greenest

There to trace the homeward bee

That's the way for Billy and me

Where the poplar grows the smallest

Where the old pine waves the tallest

Pies and rooks know who are we

That's the way for Billy and me

Where the hazel bank is steepest

Where the shadow falls the deepest

There the clustering nuts fall free

That's the way for Billy and me.