Classic Poem

Auld Willie Nairn, the last Laird o' the Mint,
Had an auld-farrant pow, wi' auld-farrant thoughts in't;
There ne'er was before sic a body in print,
As auld Willie Nairn, the last Laird o' the Mint;
Sae list and ye'll find ye hae muckle to learn,
An' ye'd still be but childer to auld Willie Nairn.

Auld Nanse, an auld maid, kept his house clean an' happy
For the body was tidy, though fond o' a drappy;
An' aye when the Laird charged the siller-taed cappy,
That on state occasions made ca'ers aye nappy,
When the bicker gaed round, Nanny aye got a sharin'
There are unca few masters like auld Willie Nairn.

He'd twa muckle tabbies, ane black an' ane white,
That purr'd at his side, by the fire, ilka night,
And gazed in the ingle wi' sagelike delight,
While he ne'er took a meal but they baith gat a bite
For baith beast an' bodie aye gat their full sairin'—
He could ne'er feed alane, couthy auld Willie Nairn.

He had mony auld queer things, frae far places brought—
He had rusty auld swords whilk Ferrara had wrought—
He had axes, wi' whilk Bruce an' Wallace had fought—
He had auld Roman bauchles, wi' auld bawbees bought;
For aye in the Cowgate, for auld knick-knacks starin',
Day after day daunerit auld Willie Nairn.

His snaw-flaiket locks, and his lang pouther'd queue,
Commanded assent to ilk word frae his mou';
Though a leer in his ee, an' a lirk in his broo,
Made ye ferlie gin he thought his ain stories true;
But he minded o' Charlie when he'd been a bairn,
An' nane had the heart to thraw auld Willie Nairn.

Gin ye speer'd him anent ony auld hoary hoose,
He cockit his head heigh, an' set his staff crouse,
Syne gazed through his specks, till his heart-springs brak loose,
Then, amid tears, in whispers wad scarce wauk a mouse,
He tald ye some tale o't, wad make your heart yearn
To hear mair sic stories frae auld Willie Nairn.

E'en wee snarling dogs gae a kind yowffin bark,
As he dauner't doun closes, baith ourie an' dark;
For he kenn'd ilka doorstane and auld-warld mark,
An' e'en amid darkness his love lit a spark;
An' want vainly pleading wi' hearts hard as airn—
Was heard an' relievit by auld Willie Nairn.

The laddies ran to him to redd ilka quarrel,
An' he souther'd a' up wi' a snap or a farl;
While vice that had daur'd to stain virtue's pure laurel,
Shrunk cow'd frae the glance o' the stalwart auld carl;
For the weak he was wae, wi' the strong he was stern—
An' dear, dear was honour to auld Willie Nairn.

O! we'll ne'er see his like again, now's he's awa!
There are hunders mair rich, there are thousands mair braw,
But he gae a' his gifts, an' they whiles werena sma'
Wi' a grace made them lichtly on puir shouthers fa';
An' he gae in the dark, when nae rude ee was glarin'—
There was deep-hidden feelin' in auld Willie Nairn.