Classic Poem

I GAED to spend a week in Fife —
— An unco week it proved to be —
For there I met a waesome wife
— Lamentin' her viduity.
Her grief brak out sae fierce and fell,
I thought her heart wad burst the shell,
And, — I was sae left tae mysel, —
— I sell't her an annuity.

The bargain lookit fair eneugh —
— She just was turned o' saxty-three;
I couldna guessed she'd prove sae teugh,
— By human ingenuity.
But years have come, and years have gane,
And there she's yet as stieve 's a stane —
The limmer's growin' young again,
— Since she got her annuity.

She's crined awa' to bane and skin,
— But that, it seems, is naught to me;
She's like to live — although she's in
— The last stage o' tenuity.
She munches wi' her wizened gums,
An' stumps about on legs o' thrums;
But comes, as sure as Christmas comes,
— To ca' for her annuity.

She jokes her joke, an' cracks her crack,
— As spunkie as a growin' flea —
An' there she sits upon my back,
— A livin' perpetuity.
She hurkles by her ingle side,
An' toasts an' toasts her wrunkled hide —
Lord kens how lang she yet may bide
— To ca' for her annuity.

I read the tables drawn wi' care
— For an insurance company;
Her chance o' life was stated there,
— Wi' perfect perspicuity.
But tables here or tables there,
She's lived ten years beyond her share,
An's like to live a dizzen mair,
— To ca' for her annuity.

I got the loun that drew the deed —
— We spelled it o'er right carefully; —
In vain he yerked his souple head,
— To find an ambiguity:
It's dated — tested — a' complete —
The proper stamp — nae word delete —
And diligence, as on decreet,
— May pass for her annuity.

Last Yule she had a fearfu' hoast, —
— I thought a kink might set me free;
I led her out, 'mang snaw and frost,
— Wi' constant assiduity.
But deil ma' care — the blast gaed by,
And missed the auld anatomy —
It just cost me a tooth, forbye
— Discharging her annuity.

I thought that grief might gar her quit —
— Her only son was lost at sea —
But aff her wits behoved to flit,
— An' leave her in fatuity!
She threeps, an' threeps, he's livin' yet,
For a' the tellin' she can get;
But catch the doited runt forget
— To ca' for her annuity!

If there's a sough o' cholera,
— Or typhus, — wha sae gleg as she?
She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a',
— In siccan superfluity!
She doesna need — she's fever proof —
The pest gaed owre her very roof —
She tauld me sae — an' then her loof
— Held out for her annuity.

Ae day she fell, her arm she brak —
— A compound fracture as could be —
Nae leech the cure wad undertak,
— Whate'er was the gratuity.
It's cured! She handles 't like a flail —
It does as weel in bits as hale —
But I'm a broken man mysel
— Wi' her and her annuity.

Her broozled flesh and broken banes
— Are weel as flesh and banes can be;
She beats the tades that live in stanes,
— An' fatten in vacuity!
They die when they're exposed to air,
They canna thole the atmosphere —
But her! expose her onywhere,
— She lives for her annuity.

If mortal means could nick her thread,
— Sma' crime it wad appear to me;
Ca' t murder — or ca' t homicide —
— I'd justify 't — an' do it tae.
But how to fell a withered wife
That's carved out o' the tree of life —
The timmer limmer dares the knife
— To settle her annuity.

I'd try a shot — but whar's the mark?
— Her vital parts are hid frae me;
Her backbone wanders through her sark
— In an unkenned corkscrewity.
She's palsified, an' shakes her head
Sae fast about, ye scarce can see 't;
It's past the power o' steel or lead
— To settle her annuity.

She might be drowned; but go she'll not
— Within a mile o' loch or sea;
Or hanged — if cord could grip a throat
— O' siccan exiguity.
It's fitter far to hang the rope —
It draws out like a telescope;
'Twad tak' a dreadfu' length o' drop
— To settle her annuity.

Will poison do 't? It has been tried,
— But, be't in hash or fricassee,
That's just the dish she can't abide,
— Whatever kind o' goat it hae.
It's needless to assail her doubts, —
She gangs by instinct, like the brutes, —
An' only eats an' drinks what suits
— Hersel an' her annuity.

The Bible says the age o' man
— Threescore and ten, perchance, may be;
She's ninety-four. Let them wha can,
— Explain the incongruity.
She should hae lived afore the flood —
She's come o' patriarchal blood,
She's some auld Pagan, mummified
— Alive for her annuity.

She's been embalmed inside and oot —
— She's sauted to the last degree —
There's pickle in her very snoot
— Sae caper-like an' cruety.
Lot's wife was fresh compared to her —
They've kyanized the useless knir, —
She canna decompose — nae mair
— Than her accursed annuity.

The water-drap wears out the rock,
— As this eternal jaud wears me;
I could withstand the single shock,
— But not the continuity.
It's pay me here, an' pay me there,
An' pay me, pay me, evermair —
I'll gang demented wi' despair —
— I'm charged for her annuity!