Classic Poem

Doun a steep crookit close, lowerin' ourie and grim,
Whaur the windows are few, and the lichts they are dim,
Whaur twa winkin' lamps in the keen frosty nicht
Send up their lang columns o' dim smeekit licht,
And the heigh hoary houses, maist meetin' aboon,
Keep out ilka blink o' the red fozzy moon,
There's ae window shines thro' the darkness sae dun, —
That's the hame o' auld Dumpie and Duncan her son.

There's a strang gurly blast, blawin' snell frae the south, —
Ne'er mind, but slip into the dark entry-mouth,
And stap up ae story, nor ferlie ye sair,
Tho' close by your lug a bit donkey should rair;
Nor heed, when you get to the story aboon,
Tho' some squeekin' grumphies in concert may croon,
Ne'er fash, but dart up like the shot o' a gun,
Till ye win up to Dumpie and Duncan her son.

Yet while ye're gaun up to see what's gann on there,
Tak tent o' your feet in that worn windin' stair:
Nor cower for the tyke wi' its lang eerie howl,
Nor swarf for the cat, wi' its starved wailing yowl,
Nor the wee whingein' wean, skyting doun wi' a skirl,
Nor the half open door, dauded to wi' a dirl;
Up — up to the garret, I'll wad ye get fun,
Gif ance ye reach Dumpie and Duncan her son.

Ne'er mind tho' auld Dumps, when ye rap at the door,
May bid ye gae wa', wi' a gruff girnin' roar,
Her bark's no her bite, sae ne'er mind ye her din,
But lift up the sneck and pap cannily in:
Put on your best specks if ye're short in the sight,
Shut out a' the dark, and let in a' the light,
And finish the pictur' that I hae begun,
For now ye see Dumpie and Duncan her son.

But just for their sakes wha might hae to come far,
To ken what this couple o' queer bodies are,
And might think him a beggar, and her an auld hunks,
I may hint that the bodies are thrang splittin' spunks,
That they're aft scant o' meat, and sair scrimpit o' claes,
That they've warsled gey sair wi' the warld a' their days,
Yet aye wi' their ain hands their leevin' they've won,
O wha lo'es nae Dumpie and Duncan her son!

The last whiles are first, there's an Ee up aboon,
Tho' we seldom look up, never tires lookin' doon,
That taks a' the feckless aye under its ken,
The wee hungry birds, and the weak sons o' men,
That Ee sheddin' radiance ower nature afar,
Illumin' each planet, and lightin' each star,
While sparklin' wi' glory it kindles the sun,
Lichts the lown hearts o' Dumpie and Duncan her son.