XXXII. Wi' birr he bangs his paper out, And thinks his point ayont a doubt. To ilka hirn he tak's his rout, (For he's nae fae) And gangs just stavering about In quest o' prey. XXXIII. After he's rais'd a needless reek, Syne he begins to grow mair meek, For he meets wi' a great begeek Frae empty binks, Sae wi' his finger in his cheek, Awa' he slinks. XXXIV. The gauger's scarcely frae the door, Rais'd up in cairns, And birns baith a-hint and 'fore O' greetin' bairns. XXXV. The auld anes raise a whinging tone, And sigh and sob, and cry, Ohon! Frae man and wife, Wha to their childer seek a scone, To succour life. XXXVI. Quo' they, "We're trachled unco sair, "The night is weety, "And gin ye quarters hae to spare, "O shaw your pity!" XXXVII. The lasses yamour frae their wheel, "Ye're just fit to mak' muck o' meal, "Sae swith awa'." XXXVIII. Auld luckie cries; "Ye're o'er ill set, "In after days, "The black cow has nae trampet yet "Upo' your taes. XXXIX. "G'ie o'er your daft and taunting play, "And gï'e them strae, "There let them rest till it be day, "And syne they'll gae." XL. Whan John, the head ploughman, comes in, They mak' a loud and joyfu' din, For ilka heart is rais'd a pin, And mair, I trow, And in a trice they round him rin, To get what's new. XLI. O wat ye whare the lad has been, For ploy sae rare ; But, reader, ye shall ken bedeen The hale affair. XLII. As he was wurking lang and strang, And fallowin wi' pith an bang, The couter o' the pleugh gaed wrang, (A' thing maun wear,) Syne he did to the smithy gang, To mend the gear. XLIII. This is the houff of ane and a', To tak' them there; Some gang to hear, and some to shaw Their rustic lear. XLIV. They tell news here of a kin' kind, And nature plain, Sic as the heart will sooner find, Than speeches vain. XLV. O' John's return spak ilka nook, For they were on the tenter-hook, For smithy chat; And now, I trow, like printed book, He gies them that. XLVI. He thus begins, "What's this ava', "There's sad wark in America, "For fowk there dinna keep the law, "And wad be free, "Nor o' King George stand ony awe, "Nor taxes gie. XLVII. "They say we're listing heaps indeed, "By what I hear, "The rebels hae made unco' head, "Within this year. XLVIII. "The smith thinks they hae play'd a trick, "Sin we o' time did miss the nick, "But now, let us our winning lick, "(He cry'd in pet,) "And said, Fowk sud the iron strike, "Ay whan it's het. XLIX. "I wish our fowk soon hame again, "And no to dander 'yont the main, "Because I dread the king o' Spain, "And wily France, "Will seek the thing that's no their ain, "And lead's a dance. L. "I wat o' cunning they're no lamé, "Mischief to ettle; "At ither times we'd mak' them tame, "And cool their mettle. LI. "But I'll hae done wi' foreign lands, "And mind the thing that's nearer hands; "On Friday next a bridal stands "At the Kirk-town, "The bridegroom gae me great commands "To bring ye down." |