Classic Poem

Keen the frosty winds were blawin',
Deep the snaw had wreathed the ploughs,
Watty, wearied a' day sawin',
Daunert down to Mungo Blue's.

Dryster Jock was sitting cracky,
Wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill;
“Come awa,” quo' Johnny, “Watty—
Haith, we'se hae anither gill!”

Watty, glad to see Jock Jabos,
And sae mony neibours roun';
Kicket frae his shoon the snawba's,
Syne ayont the fire sat down.

Owre a board, wi' bannocks heapit,
Cheese, and stoups, and glasses stood;
Some were roaring, ithers sleepit,
Ithers quietly chew their cud.

Jock was selling Pate some tallow,
A' the rest a racket hel'—
A' but Watty, wha, poor fallow,
Sat and smoket by himsel'.

Mungo filled him up a toothfu'
Drank his health and Meg's in ane;
Watty, puffing out a mouthfu',
Pledged him wi' a dreary grane.

“What's the matter, Watty, wi' you?
Trouth your chafts are fa'in' in!
Something's wrang—I'm vexed to see you—
Gudesake! but ye're desperate thin!”

“Ay,” quo' Watty, “things are altered,
But its past redemption now;
L—d! I wish I had been haltered
When I married Maggy Howe!

“I've been poor, and vex'd, and raggy;
Try'd wi' troubles no that sma',
Them I bore—but marrying Maggy
Laid the cap-stane o' them a'.

“Nicht and day she's ever yelpin,
Wi' the weans she ne'er can gree;
When she's tired wi' perfect skelpin,
Then she flees like fire on me.

“See you, Mungo! when she'll clash on
Wi' her everlasting clack,
Whyles I've had my nieve, in passion,
Lifted up to break her back.”

“O, for gudesake, keep frae cuffets!”
Mungo shook his head and said,
“Weel I ken what sort o' life it's;
Ken ye, Watty, how I did?—

“After Bess and I were kippled,
Soon she grew like ony bear,
Brak' my shins, and, when I tippled,
Harl't out my very hair!

“For a wee I quietly knuckled,
But, when naething wad prevail,
Up my claes and cash I buckled—
‘Bess, for ever fare-ye-weel!’

“Then her din grew less and less aye,
Haith, I gart her change her tune;
Now a better wife than Bessy
Never stept in leather shoon.

“Try this, Watty—When you see her
Raging like a roaring flood,
Swear that moment that ye'll lea' her—
That's the way to keep her good.”

Laughing, sangs, and lasses' skirls,
Echoed now out through the roof,
“Done!” quo' Pate, and syne his arls
Nailed the Dryster's wauket loof.

In the thrang o' stories tellin',
Shaking haun's, and ither cheer,
Swith! a chap comes on the hallan,
“Mungo, is oor Watty here?”

Maggy's weel kent tongue and hurry,
Darted through him like a knife,
Up the door flew—like a fury
In came Watty's scaulding wife.

“Nasty, gude-for-naething being!
O, ye snuffy, drucken sow!
Bringing wife and weans to ruin,
Drinking here wi' sic a crew!

“Devil nor your legs were broken.
Sic a life nae flesh endures.
Toiling like a slave to slocken
You, ye dyvor and your whores!

“Rise! ye drucken beast o' Bethel!
Drink's your night and day's desire;
Rise this precious hour! or faith I'll
Fling your whisky i' the fire,”

Watty heard her tongue unhallow'd,
Pay'd his groat wi' little din,
Left the horse while Maggy follow'd,
Flyting a' the road behin'.

Fowk frae every door cam' lamping.
Maggy curst them ane and a',
Clappit wi' her haun's, and stamping,
Lost her bauchles i' the snaw.

Hame, at length, she turn'd the gavel,
Wi' a face as white's a clout,
Raging like a very devil,
Kicking stools and chairs about.

“Ye'll sit wi' your limmers round you!
Hang-you, sir, I'll be your death!
Little hauds my haun's, confound you,
But I'll cleave you to the teeth.”

Watty, wha, 'midst this oration,
Eyed her whyles but durstna speak,
Sat like patient Resignation,
Trem'ling by the ingle-cheek.

Sad his wee drap brose he suppet,
Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell.
Quietly to his bed he slippet
Sighing aften to himsel'.

“Nane are free frae some vexation,
Ilk ane has his ills to dree;
But through a' the hale creation
Is a mortal vex'd like me?”

A' night lang he row'd and gaunted.
Sleep or rest he couldna' tak';
Maggy, aft wi' horror haunted,
Mum'lin', started at his back.

Soon as ere the morning peepit,
Up rase Watty, waefu' chiel',
Kiss'd his weanies while they sleepit,
Wauken'd Meg, and socht fareweel.

“Fareweel Meg!—And O! may Heaven
Keep you aye within his care;
Watty's heart you've lang been grievin',
Now he'll never fash you mair.

“Happy could I been beside you,
Happy baith at morn and e'en;
A' the ills that e'er betide you,
Watty aye turned out your frien'.

“But ye ever like to see me
Vex'd and sighin' late and ear',
Fareweel, Meg, I've sworn to lea' thee,
So thou'll never see me mair.”

Meg, a' sabbing, sae to lose him,
Sic a change had never wist,
Held his haun' close to her bosom,
While her heart was like to burst.

“O my Watty! will ye lea' me,
Frien'less, helpless, to despair?
O! for this ae time forgi'e me,
Never will I vex you mair.”

“Ay! ye've aft said that, and broken
A' your vows ten times a-week,
No, no, Meg!—see, there's a token
Glittering on my bonnet cheek.

“Owre the seas I march this morning,
Listed, tested, sworn and a',
Forced by your confounded girning—
Fareweel, Meg! for I'm awa'.”

Then Poor Maggy's tears and clamour
Gushed afresh, and louder grew,
While the weans, wi' mournfu' yamour,
Round their sabbing mither flew.

“Through the yirth I'll waunder wi' you—
Stay, O Watty! stay at hame;
Here, upon my knees, I'll gie you
Ony vow you like to name.

“See your poor young lammies pleadin',
Will ye gang and break our heart?
No a house to put our head in,
No a friend to tak' our part!”

Ilka word came like a bullet,
Watty's heart begoud to shake,
On a kist he laid his wallet,
Dichted baith his een and spake.

“If ance mair I could by writing,
Lea' the sodgers and stay still,
Wad you swear to drap your flytin'?”
“Yes, O Watty! yes, I will.”

“Then,” quo' Watty, “mind, be honest;
Aye to keep your temper strive;
Gin ye break this dreadfu' promise,
Never mair expect to thrive.

“Marg'et Howe! this hour ye solemn
Swear by everything that's good,
Ne'er again yoor spouse to scauld him,
While life warms your heart and blood.

“That ye'll ne'er in Mungo's seek me,
Ne'er put drucken to my name,
Never out at e'ening steek me,
Never gloom when I come hame.

“That ye'll ne'er, like Bessy Miller,
Kick my shins or rug my hair,
Lastly, I'm to keep the siller;
This upon your saul you swear?”

“O—h!” quo' Meg; “Aweel,” quo' Watty,
“Fareweel! faith I'll try the seas;”
“O stand still,” quo' Meg, and grat aye;
“Ony, ony way ye please.”

Maggy syne, because he prest her,
Swore to a' thing owre again:
Watty lap, and danced, and kiss'd her;
Wow! but he was wondrous fain.

Down he threw his staff victorious;
Aff gaed bonnet, claes, and shoon;
Syne below the blankets, glorious,
Held anither Hinneymoon!