Classic Poem

BARD .

When men o' mettle thought it nonsense
To heed that clepping thing ca'd conscience,
And by free thinking had the knack
O' jeering ilka word it spak',
And, as a learned author speaks,
Employ'd it like a pair o' breeks,
To hide their lewd and nasty sluices,
Whilk eith slipt down for baith these uses:
Then Duniwhistle, worn wi' years,
And gawn the gate o' his forbears,
Commanded his three sons to come,
And wait upon him in his room:
Bade Bristle steek the door; an' syne
He thus began: —

DUNIWHISTLE .

Dear bairns o' mine,
I quickly man submit to fate,
And leave you three a good estate,
Which has been honourably won,
An' handed down frae sire to son,
But clag or claim, for ages past:
Now, that I mayna prove the last,
Here 's three permission bonnets for ye,
Which your great gutchers wore before ye;
An' if ye 'd hae nae man betray ye,
Let naething ever wile them frae ye;
But keep the bonnets on your heads,
An' hands frae signing foolish deeds,
An' ye shall never want sic things,
Shall gar ye be made o' by kings:
But if ye ever wi' them part,
Fu' sair ye 'll for your folly smart:
Bare-headed then ye 'll look like snools,
And dwindle down to silly tools.
Haud up your hands now, swear an' say,
As ye shall answer on a day,
Ye 'll faithfully observe my will,
An' a' its premises fulfil.

BRISTLE .

My worthy father, I shall strive
To keep your name an' fame alive,
An' never shaw a saul that 's dastard,
To gar fowk tak' me for a bastard:
If e'er by me ye 're disobey'd,
May witches nightly on me ride.

JOUKUM .

Whae'er shall dare, by force or guile,
This bonnet aff my head to wile,
For sic a bauld attempt shall rue,
And ken I was begot by you:
Else may I like a gipsy wander,
Or for my daily bread turn pander.

BAWSY .

May I be jyb'd by great an' sma',
And kytch'd like ony tennis-ba,
Be the disgrace o' a' my kin,
If e'er I wi' my bonnet twin.

BARD .

Now, soon as each had gi'en his aith,
The auld man yielded up his breath;
Was row'd in linen white as snaw,
And to his fathers borne awa'.
But scarcely he in moss was rotten,
Before his test'ment was forgotten,
As ye shall hear frae future sonnet,
How Joukum sinder'd wi' his bonnet:
And bought frae senseless billy Bawsy,
His, to propine a giglet lassie;
While worthy Bristle, not sae donner'd,
Preserves his bonnet, and is honour'd.
Thus Charactacus did behave,
Tho' by the fate o' war a slave;
His body only, for his mind
No Roman pow'r cou'd break or bind:
Wi' bannet on he bauldly spak';
His greatness gart his fetters crack:
The victor did his friendship claim,
And sent him wi' new glories hame.

But leave we Briss and simile,
And to our tale wi' ardour flee.

Beyond the hills, where lang the billies
Had bred up queys, and kids, and fillies,
And foughten mony a bloody battle
Wi' thieves that came to lift their cattle;
There liv'd a lass kept rary shows
And fidlers ay about her house;
Wha at her table fed and ranted,
Wi' the stout ale she never wanted:
She was a winsome wench and waly,
And cou'd put on her claes fu' brawly;
Rumble to ilka market-town,
And drink and fight like a dragoon:
Just sic like her wha far aff wander'd,
To get hersell weil Alexander'd.
Rosie had word o' meikle siller,
Whilk brought a hantle o' wooers till her.
Amang the rest, young master Jouk
She conquer'd ae day wi' a look.
Frae that time forth he ne'er cou'd stay
At hame to mind his corn or hay,
But grew a beau, and did adorn
Himsell wi' fifty bows o' corn;
Forby what he took on to rig
Him out wi' linen, shoon, and wig,
Snuff-boxes, sword-knots, canes, and washes,
And sweeties to bestow on lasses;
Cou'd newest aiths genteelly swear,
And had a course o' flaws perquire:
He drank, and danc'd, and sigh'd to move
Fair Rosie to accept his love.
After dumb signs, he thus began,
And spak' his mind to 'er like a man.

JOUKUM .

O tak' me, Rosie, to your arms,
And let me revel o'er your charms;
If ye say na, I needna care
For raips or tethers made o' hair,
Penknives or pools I winna need;
That minute ye say na, I 'm dead.
O let me lie within your breast,
And at your dainty teazle feast;
Weil do I like your goud to finger,
And fit to her your st — — singer.
While on this sun side o' the brae
Belangs to you, my limbs I 'll lay.

ROSIE .

I own, sweet Sir, ye woo me frankly,
But a' your courtship sars sae rankly
O' selfish interest, that I 'm flead
My person least employs your head.

JOUKUM .

What a distinction 's this your making,
When your poor lover's heart is breaking!
Wi' little logic I can shew
That every thing you ha'e is you:
Besides the beauties o' your person,
These beds o' flowers you set your a — e on,
Your claiths, your lands, and lying pelf,
Are every ane your very self,
And add fresh lustre to these graces
Wi' which adorn'd your saul and face is.

ROSIE .

Ye seem to ha'e a loving flame
For me, and hate your native hame;
That gars me ergh to trust you meikle,
For fear you shou'd prove false and fickle.

JOUKUM .

In troth my rugged billy Bristle
About his gentrie mak's sic fistle,
That if a body contradict him,
He 's ready wi' a durk to stick him;
That wearies me o' hame, I vow,
And fain would live and die wi' you.

BARD .

Observing Jouk a wee tate tipsy,
Smirking reply'd the pawky gipsy.

ROSIE .

I wad be very wae to see
My lover tak' the pet and die;
Wherefore I am inclin'd to ease ye,
And do what in me lies to please ye;
But first, ere we conclude the paction,
You must perform some gallant action,
To prove the truth o' what you 've said,
Else, for you, I shall die a maid.

JOUKUM .

My dearest jewel, gi'e 't a name,
That I may win baith you and fame:
Shall I gae fight wi' forest bulls?
Or cleave down troops wi' thicker sculls?
Or shall I douk the deepest sea,
And coral pou for beads to thee?
Penty the pope upon the nose?
Or p — upon a hundred beaus?

ROSIE .

In troth, dear lad, I wad be laith
To risk your life, or do you skaith;
Only employ your canny skill
To gain and rive your father's will,
Wi' the consent o' Briss and Bawsy,
And I shall in my bosom hawse ye,
Soon as the fatal bonnets three
Are ta'en frae them and gi'en to me.

JOUKUM .

Which to preserve I gied my aith.
But now the cause is life and death:
I must, or wi' the bonnet part,
Or twin wi' you and break my heart:
Sae tho' the aith we took was awfu',
To keep it now appears unlawfu':
Then, love, I 'll answer thy demands,
And flee to fetch them to your hands.

BARD .

The famous jilt o' Palestine
Thus drew the hoods o'er Sampson's een,
And gart him tell where lay his strength,
O' which she twinn'd him at the length;
Then gied him up in chains to rave,
And labour like a galley slave:
But, Rosie, mind, when growing hair
His loss of pith 'gan to repair,
He made of thousands an example,
By crushing them beneath their temple.