English

PART I

'Twas all within Redcastle's towers,
So merry was the nyght;
Kyng James, our sov'reign liege was there
Wyth peers of stalwart myght.

And they did quaffe the gude brown ale
In cuppes of gold so sheen;
And they did sing the minstrelle's song
Of deeds that erst had been.

Up spake the kyng with kyndlie hearte,
And eke with meikle grace;

Mrs. Bunt's compliments — informs Miss Bunn
That her front drain shall speedily be done,
Provided that Miss Bunn will be so kind
To put her ball-cock in repair behind,
Which lets all Miss Bunn's water overflow
All Mrs. Bunt's back premises below.
Wonders how anything of hers can run
So far into the passage of Miss Bunn.
The man who does her jobs shall see what's wrong,
But thinks Miss Bunn wont find his nails too long.
Knows their partitions are exceeding slight,
From Miss Bunn's parrot calling Pots all night;

Miss Bunn sends compliments to Mrs. Bunt;
Requests she'll cover up her drain in front;
Which looks so ungenteel, and smells so strong,
It makes Miss Bunn go backward all day long.
Also regrets to be obliged to state.
That Mrs. Bunt's deal safe fixed up of late
Has caused a very ugly nail to run
Some inches in the passage of Miss Bunn.
Is sorry their partitions aren't of brick;
Only thin paper — wishes it was thick,
Especially as Mrs. Bunt thinks right
To heat her washing-copper over night;

Stretching round England's chief emporium far
(No rage for building quenched by raging war),
What would-be villas, ranged in dapper pride,
Usurp the fields and choke the highway side!

Thither the small-folk of two sorts repair;
The first, as constant dwellers stagnate there;
The second sojourn, wasting cash, to come
On visits to their vulgar Tusculum.

These folly lures to gape in broad retreat,
And lease a cake-house for a country seat;
Those prudence prompts to shrink from London rents,

Farewell! Farewell!
Like the chiming of the bells,
Which a tale of triumph tells;
As the news in tuneful notes,
Leaping from the brazen throats,
On the startled ether floats; —
So in freedom, great and glorious,
Over flesh and sense victorious,

PART IV.

Sweet as R OSEBANK'S woods and river
Cool when simmer's sunbeams dart,
Came ilk word, and cooled the fever
That lang burned at W ILLIE'S heart.

Silent stept he on, poor fallow!
Listening to his guide before,
O'er green know and flowery hallow,
Till they reached the cot-house door.

Laigh it was; yet sweet, tho' humble!

PART III.

Back to B RITAIN'S fertile garden
Will'S returned (exchanged for faes),
Wi' ae leg, and no ae farden,
Friend, or credit, meat, or claise.

Lang through county, burgh, and city,
Crippling on a wooden leg,
Gathering alms frae melting pity;
See! poor G AIRLACE forced to beg!

Placed at length on Chelsea's bounty,
Now to langer beg thinks shame,

PART II.

Here, for ae night's kind protection,
Leave we Jean and weans a while;
Tracing W ILL in ilk direction,
Far frae B RITAIN'S fostering isle.

Far frae scenes o' saftening pleasure,
Love's delights and beauty's charms
Far frae friends and social leisure, —
Plunged in murdering W AR'S alarms.

Is it nature, vice, or folly,
Or Ambition's feverish brain,

Oh! that folk wad weel consider
What it is to tyne a — NAME ,
What this warld is a'thegither.
If bereft of honest fame!

Poortith ne'er can bring dishonour;
Hardships ne'er breed Sorrow's smart,
If bright Conscience taks upon her
To shed sunshine round the heart:

But wi' a' that wealth can borrow,
Guilty shame will aye look down;
What maun then shame, want, and sorrow,

Maist things hae a sma' beginning,
But wha kens how things will end?
Weekly clubs are nae great sinning,
If folk hae enough to spend:

But nae man o' sober thinking
E'er will say that things can thrive,
If there's spent in weekly drinking
What keeps wife and weans alive.

Drink maun aye hae conversation,
Ilka social soul allows;
But, in this reforming nation,