I.

If thou would’st view old Pittenweem aright, Go visit it by the broad daylight, For if the night were murky, pray How couldst thou ken that fair Abbaye! And should it eke come on to rain, Thy pleasure would be turn’d to pain; But when the golden sunbeams smile On ruin’d nave and barren aisle, When noontide rays enlivening fall On thirstly floor and weedy wall. So that thou need’st not break thy bones Or shins against the rugged stones, Then go, but take a trusty guide Who knows the country far and wide, And give him half-a-crown or so, To tell thee all that he may know; But should he show thee Fillan’s tomb Within some cloister’s ivied gloom, Believe him not, although he swear, Because the Saint’s not buried there.