Classic Poem

LATE VINTNER IN ST. RONAN'S

Nae mair the sign aboon the door
Wi' passin' winds is flappin';
Fish Nellie comes nae as afore
Wi' nervous chappin'.
The Captain 's followed Francie Tyrell —
Mind ance he gaed to seek him,
An' felt your besom shaft play dirl
Doon-by at Cleikum.
Wi' thrift as great as made you build
To save the window taxin',
Death closed your een when greedy Eild
Cam' schedule raxin'.

How gladly would we lea' the Clubs,
" Wildfire" or " Helter Skelter,"
Dicht fae our feet a' earthly dubs,
Had ye a shelter
Whaur trauchled chiels — " an' what for no?"
Gin sae it pleased the gods —
Could rest an' fish a week or so
At Marget Dods".
'Twould hearten strangers gin they saw
Across some caller loanin"
A wavin' sign whaur crook an' a'
Hung auld St. Ronan.

Then haudin' hard to new-won grace,
Rejectin' aucht 'at 's evil,
Ye wouldna thole in sic a place
Dick Tinto's Deevil,
But send him sornin' doon the howe
To some tamteen or hottle,
Whaur birselt vratches fain, I trow,
Wad dreep a bottle.
An' since you 're bye wi' anger noo,
Send wi' him something caller —
As muckle 's slock the gizzened mou'
O' ae damned " Waller."