Grannie Mirk
A STIRLING GRANNIE .
A CLEVER young dominie — noo in a kirk —
Was keepin' a schule near to auld Grannie Mirk —
A couthie auld grannie as e'er ye micht fin',
She wadna be idle, though feckly gane blin'.
Her heid was weel stockit wi' guid common-sense —
In ilk thing she did there was kindness an' mense;
To clashes an' clavers she wadna gae heed,
But ne'er was she hainin' to bodies in need.
Whan bairnies to schule wad come dreepin' wi' rain,
She dried the wat duds o' ilk puir drookit wean;
At her weel-beetit fire and cozie fire-en'
She gather'd the bairns like an auld clockin'-hen.
An' aft at twal'-oors, to auld grannie's fireside,
The dominie cam' for a weeock to bide;
A crumpie ait farle, wi' butter weel spread,
She gi'ed him, an' wow but the chappie was glad.
Oor grannie was juist a real auld-warl' wife,
An' butter'd her cakes wi' an auld-fashion'd knife,
An' that was nae ither but grannie's ain thoom;
But the chiel bein' yaup ne'er thocht o' the coom.
Noo the schule it is skail'd, an' grannie's gane hame,
An' the dominie's eekit D.D. to his name;
An' lang may he bruck a' the honours he's won,
The goal be as bricht as the race he has run.
A HAMILTON GRANNIE
As she lay on her bed, frail, dowie, an' dune,
The neebors a' thocht that her en' wad be sune;
That mornin' a gent had cum in frae the toun
To speir for her weelfare, an' sat himsel' doun.
" Hoo's a' wi' ye, grannie? an' whan did ye hear.
Frae Davie, yer son? it's o' him I wad speir,
Wha has travell'd sae far through forest an' flood,
Wi' his life in his haun, for the hale warl's gude.
" Thou art blest amang mithers; nae leddy or queen
Has gi'en sic a son to the kintra, I ween;
He's an honour to Scotlan', an' lang afterhen
He's laid in the mools, he'll be blest amang men. "
Auld grannie lay still, sae contentit to hear
The praise o' her son sae duteous an' dear;
She leuk'd in his face, and said — " Bide ye a wee,
I've something o' Davie's will please ye to see. "
" Gae, Jeanie, my dochter, " then grannie began,
" Bring Davie's hauf-croon, it's the first that he wan;
A studgel bit callan he brocht it to me —
" That's the erles o' mair, my mither," quo' he.
" An' mony lang years after he gi'ed me this,
My Davie cam' back his auld mither to bless,
Frae far-awa' lan's, whaur the black bodies bide,
An' fo'k gi'ed him welcome wi' pleasure an' pride.
" They honour'd an' prais'd him, an' gowpens o' gowd
They gather'd for him, an' right freely bestow'd;
Then swith to his ain mither's dwallin' he's gaun
Wi' the twa-thousan' cheque they laid in his haun.
" He stood at my knee, an' he there laid it doon —
" Oh, dinna ye min" o' yer Davie's hauf-croon!
The first that he wrocht for? noo, see what is there;
I tauld ye that it was the erles o' mair."
" Noo, tak' the bit siller intil yer ain haun,
It's precious to me, ye may weel unnerstaun;
It's no a' the siller in kintra an' toun
Wad tempt me to pairt wi' my Davie's hauf-croon. "
Noo grannie sleeps soun' in the caul' bed o' death;
On dear Davie's bosom she drew her last breath
Again he's on travel; may God be his guide;
Bless a' his sair labours, protect an' provide!
A CLEVER young dominie — noo in a kirk —
Was keepin' a schule near to auld Grannie Mirk —
A couthie auld grannie as e'er ye micht fin',
She wadna be idle, though feckly gane blin'.
Her heid was weel stockit wi' guid common-sense —
In ilk thing she did there was kindness an' mense;
To clashes an' clavers she wadna gae heed,
But ne'er was she hainin' to bodies in need.
Whan bairnies to schule wad come dreepin' wi' rain,
She dried the wat duds o' ilk puir drookit wean;
At her weel-beetit fire and cozie fire-en'
She gather'd the bairns like an auld clockin'-hen.
An' aft at twal'-oors, to auld grannie's fireside,
The dominie cam' for a weeock to bide;
A crumpie ait farle, wi' butter weel spread,
She gi'ed him, an' wow but the chappie was glad.
Oor grannie was juist a real auld-warl' wife,
An' butter'd her cakes wi' an auld-fashion'd knife,
An' that was nae ither but grannie's ain thoom;
But the chiel bein' yaup ne'er thocht o' the coom.
Noo the schule it is skail'd, an' grannie's gane hame,
An' the dominie's eekit D.D. to his name;
An' lang may he bruck a' the honours he's won,
The goal be as bricht as the race he has run.
A HAMILTON GRANNIE
As she lay on her bed, frail, dowie, an' dune,
The neebors a' thocht that her en' wad be sune;
That mornin' a gent had cum in frae the toun
To speir for her weelfare, an' sat himsel' doun.
" Hoo's a' wi' ye, grannie? an' whan did ye hear.
Frae Davie, yer son? it's o' him I wad speir,
Wha has travell'd sae far through forest an' flood,
Wi' his life in his haun, for the hale warl's gude.
" Thou art blest amang mithers; nae leddy or queen
Has gi'en sic a son to the kintra, I ween;
He's an honour to Scotlan', an' lang afterhen
He's laid in the mools, he'll be blest amang men. "
Auld grannie lay still, sae contentit to hear
The praise o' her son sae duteous an' dear;
She leuk'd in his face, and said — " Bide ye a wee,
I've something o' Davie's will please ye to see. "
" Gae, Jeanie, my dochter, " then grannie began,
" Bring Davie's hauf-croon, it's the first that he wan;
A studgel bit callan he brocht it to me —
" That's the erles o' mair, my mither," quo' he.
" An' mony lang years after he gi'ed me this,
My Davie cam' back his auld mither to bless,
Frae far-awa' lan's, whaur the black bodies bide,
An' fo'k gi'ed him welcome wi' pleasure an' pride.
" They honour'd an' prais'd him, an' gowpens o' gowd
They gather'd for him, an' right freely bestow'd;
Then swith to his ain mither's dwallin' he's gaun
Wi' the twa-thousan' cheque they laid in his haun.
" He stood at my knee, an' he there laid it doon —
" Oh, dinna ye min" o' yer Davie's hauf-croon!
The first that he wrocht for? noo, see what is there;
I tauld ye that it was the erles o' mair."
" Noo, tak' the bit siller intil yer ain haun,
It's precious to me, ye may weel unnerstaun;
It's no a' the siller in kintra an' toun
Wad tempt me to pairt wi' my Davie's hauf-croon. "
Noo grannie sleeps soun' in the caul' bed o' death;
On dear Davie's bosom she drew her last breath
Again he's on travel; may God be his guide;
Bless a' his sair labours, protect an' provide!
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