IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ ^/ ^^ „*■ *^% ■**\^" < •» 26 POEMS AND SONGS. Ye wha lightly talk o' women, Aye keep mind there's ane or twa That ye never want to hear them Lightly spoken o' ava : Whaur's the man but thinks his mither Was as guid as needs to be ? What's the reason, then, that ithers Shouldna hae as good as he ? Would ye learn the worth o' women, Tak' a guid ane to yoursel'. Then you'll find out a' their virtues — Mair o' them than I can tell ; Canada has plenty o' them — Lovesome lassies trig an' braw, Just as guid an' just as bonnie As the wide world ever saw. Wale a guid ane frae amang them, Cherish her wi' love an' care, An' my word for't, that you'll never Lightly speak o' women mair. Do this and you're sure to prosper — De'il confound the lang-tongued loon Wha tak's either pride or pleasure Tryin' to rin w^omen doon. POEMS AND SONGS. 27 lt'0 §tsi to W^'t QTecbilitg. It's best to ha'e ceevility, It always answers weel, The auld wife said ae mornin', When she curchied to the deil ; But though it may be richt at times To gi'e Auld Nick his due, Ye maun tak' care he disna get A mortgage upon you. It's guid to ha'e a ceevil tongue, Whatever else you ha'e — It's like a passport in your pouch Whaure'er you chance to gae ; Men greet ye when ye pass them by. And always wish you weel, And say^ — as soon's your out o' sicht- There gangs a decent cheil. It disna do to gang aroun' As surly as a bear, And girn and growl the hale day lang, And fret, and fume, and swear ; And keep folks in hot water wi' Your everlasting din — r 28 \f I POEMS AND SONGS. That's no the way to gain respect, Nor men's esteehi to win. Ye maun be courteous and kind, And ne'er give way to strife. For angry words ha'e got an edge As keen and sharp's a knife. Ne'er mak' an enemy o' ane That ye can mak' your frien' — Sow kindness, and you may be sure That kindness you will glean. Ne'er be o'er gleg at seeing fau'ts In ithers, for ye ken Perfection hasna yet been found Amang the sons o' men. The best o' us whiles gang ajee, For human nature's frail,-^ Then aye as far as ere you can Let charity prevail. The ninth commandment dinna break, Nor dinna tell a lee — A man's word should be just as guid As what his oath should be. The brightest ornament that gilds The brow o' age or youth is that clear, shinin', sparklin' gem That bears the name o' Truth; POEMS AND SONGS. 29 Ne'er let your tongue to lewdness rin, Nor dinna be profane — God winna baud you guiltless If ye tak' His name in vain. If ye these maxims lay to heart You'll no gang far astray, At least they'll be a help to you To guide you on your way, H* li 39 POEMS AND SONGS. <^toa', ie SBarlbis Crete. Awa', ye warldly crew, wha think, As thro' the warld ye gang, That if ye're only richt yoursel's There's naething can be wrang : Ye base an' sordid, selfish loons, I plainly tell ye a', If I could get my wull o' you, I'd gi'e your necks a thraw. An' ye wha live by vice an' fraud, That disna care a preen How muckle misery ye may cause If siller ye can glean : Ne'er carin' how ye wrang the puir. Nor how ye break the law — The muckle Deil wull get you yet, An' gi'e your necks a thraw. Ye canting hypocrites wha tak* Religion for a cloak, An' mak' the Kirk the means by which Ye cheat mair honest folk ; Tak' ye my word, the time wull come You'll be despised by a*, An* few there are that care how soon Your necks may get a thraw. POEMS AND SONGS. An' you, ye loons, that in the Court Aft sweer that black is white, An' try to mak' the wrang appear Mair virtuous than the right ; For purposes that suit yoursel's Ye twist an' turn the law — Deil nor the Sheriff may get you To gi'e your necks a thraw. An* ye wha canna keep your han's Frae out the public chest — That gi'e the country a' the chaff While ye retain the grist — Gi'e ow're your greedy, thievin' ways, An' do what's richt by a', Or if ye dinna, feth I hope Your necks may get a thraw. Eh, sure this warld is unco fu' O' knavery an' deceit ; I wonder when we'll learn to think " The guid alone are great ; " Let's hope the time o' which Burns sang May no far distant be. When honest worth o'er a' the earth Shall always bear the gree. 3» I I If i ii !l - 3a POEMS AND SONGS. %ht l^otb ^diJ0 ^hcm that Idp '^hcm^d'e. The Lord helps them that help themsel's, And richt it is he should, For them that winna help themsel's Will ne'er do muckle good. The fiat has gone forth that ye Maun work to earn your bread, And they that winna try to work Are lazy loons indeed. There's some sits doon wi' faulded hands, Wi' neither bite nor sup. Aye waitin' as Micawber did For "something to turn up." They keep a' day within the house, Like snails within their shell, And never think they've ony richt To try and help themsel'. I canna see how they can sit, And live upon the hope That manna will fa* doon frae heav'n To fill their am'ries up. The days o' miracles are past, As maist o' folks can tell, And they that winna work maun want, Sae rise and help yoursel'. POEMS AND SONGS. 33 I'd ne'er refuse a worthy man A lift gaiin up life's brae, But charity is thrown awa' On a' sic sumphs as they ; I'hey should be taught that while they've health And strength, to use it well, And ne'er depend on ither folks While they can help themsel'. It's well enough, nae doubt, at times To trust to Providence ; But they that lippen things like these Will show their want o' sense. There's whiles ye may be out o' wark. Or hae a sickly spell. In sic a case the Lord helps them That canna help themsel'. The man o' independent mind Will try baith day and nicht To help himsel' as far's he can In ony thing that's richt ; Though lions roar upon his path, He disna mind their yell, But bauldly pushes them aside And strives to help himsel'. The bread you earn yoursel' is aye The sweetest to your taste — Besides you are'na half sae apt To let aught gang to waste. i 14 POEMS AND SONGS. Then frien's and brithcrs ane]and a', Whaure'er ye chance to dwell, Keep mind o* this, the Lord helps them That try to help themsel', POEMS AND SONGS, 35 I Be honest, be honest, be trusty and true, Though ithers gang gleyd that is naething to you ; There are some ragged cowtes that will never do well : Ne'er be guided by them, but be honest yoursel'. Be honest yoursel', and ne'er let greed o' gain Mak' ye put oot your hand to tak' what's no your ain ; If ye do, then to ruin you'll drive on pell-mell, Whene'er you gac owre being honest yoursel*. Riches got in this way never last very lang — They come wi' the wind, wi' the water they gang, And you canna expect that you'll e'er prosper well, Unless you are upricht and honest yoursel'. Be honest, though wealth never fa's to your share : It's nae sin nor nae crime in a man to be puir j Though humble and lowly the cot where you dwell, You'll meet wi' respect if you're honest yoursel'. Be honest, and strive aye to do what is richt — Ne'er do naething by day you can't stand by at nicht ; Then your sleep will be pleasant and sound as a bell, When you ken a' the time that you're honest yoursel'. Be honest and faithfu', be truthfu' and wise — The mean, petty doings o' tricksters despise ; Keep your conscience as pure as a clear rinnin' well, And aye aboon a' things be honest yoursel'. I' f 36 POEMS AND SONGS. Wtht There is a mischief-makin' chiel That travels far and near, And they wha ken him best ha*e learn'd To hand his name in fear. If e'er he lays his claws on you, Awa' ye canna get : You'll find it sae if ere ye meet Wi* that auld deevil, Debt. His grip's as firm's a blacksmith's vice, And unco hard to break He pu's ye doon as if he were A mill-stane roun' your neck. He bangs ye richt and dings ye left, Till ye're sae sair beset You dinna ken which way to turn To get awa* frae Debt, He brings the duns unto your door, And whiles the bailiff, too, Unwelcome visitors are they At ony time, I trow ; They're greedy looi-s, for a' is fish That comes within their net POEMS AND SOl.'US. They'll pick your banes as bare's your loof C in ye get into Debt. A man may own a foolish wife, And yet some pleasure ha'e ; He lives in hopes he'll see her gang Feet foremost owre the brae. But hope deferr'd Ml mak' ye sick And gar ye foam and sweat, If ance ye're in sae deep that ye Can ne'er get out o' Debt. ST .' < ' Tliere's some it disna trouble much — They dinna seem to care How much accumulates if they Can tak' on ony mair ; They're naethin' but a pack o' knaves That live upon their wit ; An honest man will always try To pay an honest Debt. I I've liv'd within this planet now For thirty years and mair, And aften to keep out o' debt I've struggled geyin' sair, And though at ance I ne'er ha'e owned A hunder dollars yet, I dinna care sae lang as I Can just keep out o* Debt. I * ir 'iii'l! I i i 38 POEMS AND SONGS. O Fortune, ye're a glaikit jade, And blind as ony bat ; You deal your favors roun' about. Ne'er kennin' what ye're at. Gi'e rich folks less and puir folks mair Than they ha'e gotten yet. And then we'll ha'e less cause to mourn O'er sic a thing as Debt. POEMS AND SONGS. 39 i • '§0 a' the CEttib jje (Eatt. There's mony ups an' doons in life, Within this warld o' ours, Our path is very aften strewed Wi' baith the thorns and flowers ; Let's pick the roses frae the briers, Since life is but a span, An' as ye gang alang the road, Do a' the guid ye can. Misfortunes whiles '11 grip ye fast, An' snool ye gey'in sair ; An* brawly do I ken mysel' They're unco hard to bear ; But dinna let them fash ye much, You'll find whaure'er ye gang There's some that's far waur aflf than you- Do a' the guid ye can. If fortune has been kind to you. Be thankfu' for its smiles, An' dinna grudge to help alang The man that's dreed its wiles. If honest poverty you meet, Haud out a helpin' han' ; You only do what's richt when ye Do a' the guid ye can* ' I i 40 POEMS AND SONGS. There's some you'll meet wi' now an' then Sunk in the mire o' sin ; It is your privilege to try An' draw them out again ; Tho' they may mak' sair slips at times, Ne'er shun your fellow-man, Christ died for them as weel as you — Do a' the guid ye can. If there's a blessin' fa's on earth, 'Tis that which mercy earns ; Then dinna e'er forget that we " Are a' John Tamson's bairns."* This warld would be a happy place, Just like a fairy Ian', If ilka ane would try an' aye Do a' the guid they can. *Twas said lang syne by Ane that ken't, An* what He says believe, 'Tis better far at ony time To gi'e than to receive. Then O be sure ye bear in min' To follow mercy's plan, An' to the utmost o' your power Do a' the guid ye can. * An expression equivalent to saying we are all of the same family. I . POEMS AND SONGS. 41 *i;he Mhtti tDtihiu a Mhttl There's aye a wheel within a wheel Whichever way we turn, And they wha ken the way it works Ha'e little cause to mourn. To find out a' the secrets o't Would tak' a clever chiel ; There's just a special few can work The wheel within a wheel. The wily politician tries To mak' it understood He serves his country a' his micht For just his country's good ; I notice, when he gets a chance, He serves himsel' wi' zeal — He kens the way to turn aroun' The wheel within a wheel* I winna say they're a' alike, But ae thing weel I ken Self-interest ptedominates Amang maist kinds o' men ; Nae doot you'll meet wi' now and theii An' honest, worthy chiel I 42 POEMS AND SONGS. VVha scorns to tak' advantage o' The wheel within a wheel. The man o' business, when he strives To get his fortune made, Is ne'er content till by some means He comers you in trade ; He mak's a " ring " wi' twa-three frien's Wha understan' it weel, Then at a given signal turns The wheel within a wheel. There's mony mair that I could name, And a' their daily care Is how to work the oracle And mak' their muckle mair ; It never ance comes in their heids To think o' ithers' weal — They sit a* day and screw and turn The wheel within a wheel. And e'en some clergymen themsel's Will prove you frae the Word — When siller's in the case — how they've Been " called " on by the Lord ; But, God foigi'e me, whiles I think The " call " comes frae the deil— =- He's aye the ane that puts in gear The wheel within a wheel. 1 tOEMS AND SONGS. Say what you like, gang whaur you will, God Mammon reigns supreme, And he's maist thocht o' wha can soom The best doon Fortune's stream. Oh ! but I weary for the time When man to man shall feel As brithers should, and throw avra' The wheel within a wheel ! * 43 1'^ ! 44 POEMS AND SONGS. I'm a d^lMco €hap|jie. (On being asked what part of Scotland I came from.) I'm a Glasco chap (I'll ne'er deny it), I'll fecht ye till I dee, Sae I would hae ye a' to ken That ye maunna meddle me. I winna fecht for fechtin's sake, But if I ance begin, I'll Stan' my grun' as lang's I can, And try my best to win. I like to fecht the battles o' The weak against the strong, Although I'll ne'er tak' sides wl' them I think are in the wrong ; But show me that your cause is richt, And say " mak' this your plea," Wi' a* my heart an' a' my saui I'll fecht for't till I dee. This life is but a fecht at best, For six days out o' seven We hae to Warsel a* the time To try an' mak' a lievin ; Some win their way to wealth and fame That don't deserve't ava, POEMS AND SONGS. 45 While honest merit gey an' aft Is chirted to the wa'. Though Glasco folk are fechtin' folk, They're kind an' honest, too : They've ae wee faut — they like their maut. An' sometimes they get fou ; But deil-ma-care, you'll find them men On whom you can rely, Although an odd ane here an' there Is not the " real Mackay." It's now some three-and-twenty years Since last I saw the Clyde, But aft since then my heart has yearn'd To wander by its side. It may be that I'll see't nae mair, But come or gang what will, My earnest, heartfelt wish shall be — " Let Glasgow Flourish" stilL i 46 POEMS AND SONGS, ^ iRtther'0 ^xonhitfi. Whaur ha'e ye been the lee-lang day, Ye little ne'er-do-weel ? I ha'e a min' to skelp ye sair Until I gar ye squeal ; Ae sicht o' you I ha'ena seen Sin' breakfast time this morn ; I think that sic a steerin' wean As you has ne'er been born. Hi I Whaur ha'e ye been, ye mischief, that Ye've got in sic a plight ? If I wud tak* the tause to you It just wud ser' ye right. The claes that ye got on this morn, That look'd sae clean an' braw, Are cover'd o'er wi' dirt an' glaur — Yer jacket's torn in twa ! " Ye couldna help it ?" Haud yer tongue An' tell me nae sic lee ; You look just like as if ye had Been sclimbin' up a tree. An' there's yer shoon, no three weeks auld, That's cot at baith the taes ; POEMS AND SONGS. 47 'Twould tak' a fortune, I declare, To keep ye gaun in claes. " Ye're awfu' hungry ?" Like enough ; Why did ye no come hame ? It shows you think mair o' yer play Than ye do o' yer wame, ** Ye want a daud o' tattie scone ?" My certe ye're no blate ; I wish the schule was in again, To keep ye aff the street. Losh ! here is something else. What next ! Ye've riven a' your breeks ; God help the woman that has weans That ony comfort seeks ! For she may fecht, an' toil, an' work •Her fingers to the bane — Then gang to bed, an' rise next day, An' just begin again* '« 'i I I '1 11 Come till I tosh ye up again, An' kame your touzie hair, " That hurts ye ? " Haud yer tongue, or feth I'll maybe hurt ye mair. What will yer faither say, think ye. When he comes hame at e'en, An' I ha'e tauld him a ye've dune, An' a' whaur ye ha'e been ? I It 48 POEMS AND SONGS. What's that ye say ? ' Don't tell him, an " Ye'U be as guid's ye can, " An' that ye'U aye do richt by me •* When ye grow up a man ?" Weel, weel, ye'U maybe gather sense When ye're a wee thocht bigger. Noo, rin to Peter Patterson's, An' bring twa pund o' sugar. POEMS AND SONGS, 49 Jl (Ehccric iuglc-gibe. Gi'e Fame and Fortune unto them Wha glory in their name ; I sing a joy aboon them baith That can be found at hame : A joy in which an honest man Can tak' an honest pride — A loving wife, and loving weans, And cheerie ingle-side. Ambition's charms may lure ye on, And please ye for a while, But a* that glitters isna gowd — They're aften fu' o' guile ; Throw them awa' if ye prefer Thro' life to smoothly glide — You'll find mair heart-felt pleasure in A cheerie ingle-side. Wealth winna bring you peace o' mind, Nor ease a heart that's sair. And Fame is but an empty sound That melts awa' in air ; But whaur the sacred lowe o* love Bums bricht at even-tide, It casts a gleam o' joy and raak's A cheerie ingle-side. •i ' til I i '] 5® POKMS AND SONGS. It's no the tinsel'd works o' art That hang around your wa', Nor Brussels spread upon your floor, Bring happiness ava ; You may ha'e gear o' every kind That siller can provide, And ne'er ken what it means to ha'e A cheerie ingle-side. A' ye that's got a cantie wife, Andcosie "but "and "ben," Wi' twa-three " totums " rinning round, As weel as me, ye ken, — It's loving looks and winning smiles, And tongues that winna chide, That bring content and mak' the bliss Around the ingle-side. Then whether ye're in quest o' wealth, Or gang in search o' fame. Ne'er let them cause ye to neglect The pleasures o' your hame ; For, tak' my word, ye winna find, Tho' ye gang far and wide, A joy mair blest than can be found Around the ingle-side. O Fortune ! I ha'e ne'er, as yet, Cam' begging to your door. Nor do I ken what ye for me May ha'e laid up in store ; POEMS AND S(WGS. But now Im gaiin to ask that you Extend your favors wide— ni'e ilka honest man and wife A chcerie ingle-side. 5T "i I ■ I I i 52 POEMS AND SONGS. (Slxn^t on the ^oor. There's a little white cottage that stan's 'mang the trees, Whaur the humming-bird comes to sip sweets wi' the bees, Whaur the bright morning-glories grow up o'er the eaves, And the wee birdies nestle amang the green leaves. But there's something around it to-day that seems sad- It hasna that look o' contentment it had ; There is gloom whaur there used to be sunshine before ; Its windows are darkened — there's crape on the door. There is crape on the door — all is silent within ; There are nae merry children there makin' a din ; For the ane that was merriest aye o' them a' Is laid out in robes that look white as the sna'. But yesterday mom, when the sun shone sae bright, Nae step bounded freer — nae heart was mair light ; When the gloamin* cam' round, a' his playing was o'er — He was drowned in the bum — sae there's crape on the door. N-ic mair will he skip like a lamb o'er the lea, Or pu' the wild flowers, or gang chasin* the bee ; He'll be miss'd by the bairns when they come hame frae schulc, For he met them ilk day coming doon o'er the hill. Beside his wee coffin his lone mother kneels. And she breathes forth a prayer for the sorrow she feels ; Her puir widowed heart has been seared to the core, For not lang sinsyne there was crape on the door. Her T0£ Yet I Thy Tho For Toe Wha 11 tOEMS AND SONGS. 53 Her sobs choke her utt'rance, though she strives, but in vain, To stifle her grief, or her tears to restrain ; Yet she lovingly murmurs, " I winna repine; Thy will be done. Father ; Thy will and not mine ; Though my trials are great, yet I winna complain, For I ken that the Lord has but ta'en back his ain, To dwell wi' the angels above evermore, Whaur there's nae sin nor sorrow, nor crape on the door." « ( L . H' 54 POEMS AND SONGS. Hi ^0 se ,^0to, 60 shall jie lleap. This life's made up o' guid and bad, But mony are the ills Which by our want of wisdom that We bring upon oursel's ; We aft lose sight of what we should Within our memory keep — That is, whatever we may sow That also shall we reap. Ye that are in your Spring, tak care What seeds you cast abroad, That when your Autumn time comes roun' Your harvest may be good ; And aye tak' heed nae fulsome weeds Amang your seedlings creep, For whatsoever ye may sow That also shall ye reap. See that ye dinna sow the seeds O' discord and o' strife, But plant *' good will to men," that ye May comfort ha'e through life. The ane will bring ye peace and joy, The ither gar ye weep. For surely if ye sow the wind. The whirlwind ye maun reap. Poems and songs. 55 Ye canna cheat the Lord wi' what Ye in the ground may fling — Figs winna grow on thistles, nor Will grapes frae brambles spring ; For ilka seed is watched by Him, He never is asleep, And rest assur'd whate'er ye sow That also shall ye reap. i It may seem up-hill work at first, But dinna think it hard. For virtue at the last is sure To bring its ain reward ; Then pick the seed that's fresh and pure. And plough your furrows deep, And bear in mind whate'er ye sow That also shall ye reap. f 56 POEMS AND SONGS. 'i Our wee Tot took sick, an' she wasted awa, An' we couldna tell what had come o'er her ava ; Her bonnie blue e'e that aye sparkled sae clear Grew dim, an' her mither's was wat wi' a tear. As she sat thro' the lang nicht an' watched by her cot, An' my ain wasna dry when I look'd on wee Tot. Wee Tot was the life o' our cheerie fire-en' As she toddled about thro' our " but" an' our " ben ;" She was playfu' an' pawkie, auldfarrant an' slee, An' the joy an' the pride o' her mither an' me ; An' v/e felt mair contented an' pleased wi' our lot Frae the time heaven sent us our bonnie wee Tot. When the bloom left her cheek we were waefu' an' sad, — To bring't back we would gi'en a' the siller we had. I miss'd her saft kiss vhen I cam' hame at e'en, Tired an' weary sometimes, when my days' wark was dune ; An' my wee drap o' tea, aye, seemed cauld tho' 'twere hot, — An' tasteless, an' fusionless,. wantin' wee Tot. The doctor was sent for an' quickly he cam' — ■ (The half o' thae doctors are nought but a sham) — ' He hum'd an' he haw'd, just as much as to say "There's no muckle left for ye now but to pray ; I doot that ye'U hae to put up wi' yer lot. An* mak' up your min's for to part wi' wee Tot." 1 I I POEMS AND SONGS. 57 Her grannie cam' in frae the country next day ; (She'd been in lang before — but she lived far away,) She brought twa-three " simples" row'd up in her pouch, That acted like magic amaist at her touch. E'er twa days had passed by, wi' the care that she got, We could see quite a change in our bonnie wee Tot. This raised up our hopes, an' we still did our best, An' trusted to God He would do a' the rest ; An' He (in his mercy), relieved a' our cares, — He was gracious an* kind, for He answered our prayers ; An', wi' auld grannie's help, our sweet winsome wee wean Is as hale now an' hearty as ever again. My blessin' on women folk o'er a' the earth ; In the time o' our need we find out what they're worth ; Then the form o' a min'st'ring angel they take. I'll aye loe the auld anes for auld grannie's sake — For the young anes, I wish joy may fa' to their lot, An' a couthie gudeman an' a bloomin* wee Tot. S8 POEMS AND SONGS. " Wee, curly-headed, tottin' thing, That's aye sae tosh an' neat an' dean, Sae fu' o' mischief an' o' fun — Joy's dancin' in your very een. To sit an' watch thy pawkie tricks Aft fills my ain heart fu' o' joy. An' gars me think o' days gane by, When mirth was free frae care's alloy. I 'f ' 1 III *' Frae mom to e'en ye're rinnin' roun' As brisk an' happy as a bee ; Unless whiles when ye crack your croon, There's ne'er a tear-drap dims your 'ee. Ye're licht o' foot, an' licht o' heart — Aye in a merry, happy vein ; Fun seems to to be your chief employ, Hech ! sirs, but ye're an unco wean. '• Be still, you wee, mischievous rogue ; What's that ye're knockin' on the wa'? Deil's in the callan ! sure as death He's broke my cutty pipe in twa. Ay, ye may rin. Tak' care, tak' care : See what ye've dune — ye've tumble't o'er The three-legged stool. That's twice the day Ye've skailt my snuff upon the floor." POEMS AND SONGS. " Ye're sorry noo ?" " Sae should you be ; Come here an' sit upon my knee : I wonner whiles ye ar'na tired — Sit doon an' tak' a rest awee. Let go my specs — y " break them too — An' keep your ban's out o' my hair ; Your nails, I fin', are geyin' sharp, When they gang in a part that's bare. " Sit doon, an' be at peace awhile, I want to read a verse or twa. Na heth, ye canna be at rest There is nae stoppin' ye ava. There's naethin' sacred unto you That ye can lay your ban's upon. Ye search the Scriptures, that's a fact— If I read Matthew ye want John. " Lay doon the book ! weel, weel, what next ?" " Please, Gran'pa, to tak' aff my shoon," " Wha' tied them up in sic a knot ? " " Ye dinna ken how it was dune ? " "It's like a Gordian kno* to me, I canna get it loused ava ; Ye'll hae to gang an' bring the shears, Until I cut the lace in twa. *' There, that's a' richt." Sing * hush-a-bye.' " O, Gran'pa ! I forgot my prayers. This night I lay me down to sleep " — (That's pussy comin' doon the stairs.) 59 6o POEMS AND SONGS. ■*♦ II 1: i '|i " Wheesht ! shut your een " — " My soul to keep ; If I should die before I wake " — (I never kiss'd my pa or ma) — " Take me to heaven for Jesus' sake." " There, that'll do. Noo rin awa* An' kiss them, an' come back again, An' gang to sleep upon my knee." " Ye did it ? " " That's a clever wean ! Come, cuddle in my bosie, noo ; Your troubles for the day are past ; Puir, silly thing, ye're unco tired, An' lyin' soun' asleep at last ! *' I look into your face an' see The image o' ane deid an' gane ; I was as proud o' him as thee. When first he toddled a' his lane ; But years hae passed since I hae smoothed The curls that graced his bonnie broo. An' she, wha would hae lo'ed ye baith, Is up in heaven wi' him noo. " I wonner whiles, my bonnie bairn. If ye'U to guid or ill incline. Or how much sorrow ye may dree Ere your hair is as white as mine. I ken I'm turning auld an' frail — My days are drawin' to an en' ; I've seen the allotted time o' man^-- My years are noo threescore an' ten. POEMS AND SONGS. 6l " I haena much to leave you, bairn, But yeVe nae heritage o' shame ; Altho' I say it o' mysel', I've borne aye an honest name. May virtue guide your steps ! and, oh ! May Heaven its blessin's on you shed ! Till ye have seen your bairns' bairns. (Here, Leezie, lay the wean in bed,)" f 6t POEMS ANP SONGS. i « ill h '' I' I ■ Preachin' and practice are twa different things, And they're aften placed widely apart ; I canna help noticing whiles that what springs Frae the tongue has nae root in the heart. It's easy enough aye to gie guid advice, Maist o' folks can do that when they try ; But faith without wark Shows ye're still in the dark, For it's no' the real Sandy Mackay. * The Deil tak' a' them that gang slinkin' aroun' Wi' a sweet pleasant smile on their face. Aye tryin' at a' times to rin ithers doon, While they keep themsel's oot o' disgrace ; That man is a rogue and a knave in his heart That slanders his freen's on the sly. Never speak to him mair, He's not worthy your care, For he's no' the real Sandy Mackay. A grocer may put a few pounds in his pouch By gi'ein* licht wecht now and then ; He may ne'er be found oot till he maks himself rich But it's no' dealing justly by men. * An exi^ression used in some parts of Scotland, equal to saying " it is not the real thing." POEMS AND SONGS. 63 If there's ony in toon (and it may be there's some) To whom these last lines would apply, Let them alter their ways A' the rest o' their days, For it's no' the real Sandy Mackay. A merchant that maks his ten thousan' a year, And yet thinks that he canna pay The men that work for him, perhaps ony mair Than just four or five shillin's a day, If he lives a' the time on the fat o' the land, While they gang baith hungry and dry. You may say what you will, But, I stick to it still, He's no' the real Sandy Mackay. ' f No, Sandy Mackay is a douce decent man, And there's naethin' about him that's mean ; He's kind and warm-hearted and bauds oot his ban' When he sees you're in want o' a freen'. If you meet»wi' a man that is honest and fair, Ane that does as he would be done by, Wear him next to your heart, Wi' his love never part, For he's the real Sandy Mackay. ■ III'' r'-' V «4 POEMS AND SONGS. '^hc llearcr the ^irk the Jarthcr from (Srace. There's a saying that's nearly as auld as the hills, But it Stan's just as true to this day, And that is the nearer you live to the kirk The farther frae grace you're away. You'll often see them that's been raised 'neath its wings Turning oot what we ca' a hard case ; The' their heids may be crammed wi' the learning o' books Yet their hearts are devoid of a' grace. There's plenty that try aye to mak' you believe That they're leading the life o* a saint, When they're naething but wolves blaain' oot like a sheep, And they never wax weary or faint. The' they gang to the kirk ilka day in the year, Yet that disna alter the case ; You may sit on the tap of the steeple and sing, And still be a lang way frae grace. Sic people may preach until doomsday comes roun', But gin they dinna practice as weel. It shows that they dinna believe what they say, And they're gaun just as straught to the deel. Its of nae use ava to gang whining aroun' Wi' a lang sanctimonious face ; You may baith preach and pray every hour in the day And yet be a lang way frae grace. V A E Ii i V POEMS AND SONGS. «5 \ And gin ye should specr how to draw nearer grace, I will tell ye a plain simple way : Do justly, walk humbly, show mercy to a', Tho' they whiles gang a ** wee thocht" astray. It is human to err, but 'tis God-like, ye ken, To forgie ; then let such be your case : When you worship the Lord wi' yo?irderJs, nc' you/ W0!d5, Then you're drawing mair near to VJIh gr? ...e. $6 POEMS AND SONGS. i I f li: !i (To D. Manwell, \ork Mills, State of New York.) Pear Sir : Wark for the nicht I've laid aside, An' my Pegasus got astride ; It's noo sae lang since last I rode him, The Deil himsel could scarcely haud him ; He jumps about frae left to right — You'd think the beast had gane clean gyte ; In sober pace I fain would trot him. But for my saul I canna get him To jog alang, or even canter. But aff he gangs like Tam O'Shanter's Auld Mare Meg, when she was rinnin' An* Cutty Sark behind her grinnin'. An' Tam, puir chiel, was sittin' sweatin' Wi' dread o'* that black imp ' 68 POEMS AND SONGS. For them doon-by he canna bide them, An' dis'na want to be beside them. Nae mair do I your humble servan', Though o' your favors less deservin', But if ye've room an' ye can spare it, Wi' Davie I would like to share it ; For fain am I to be beside him, Through weal or woe whatever betide him. Next on the list noo comes your wife, The joy and comfort of your life ; An', Manwell, dinna think I flatter, Ye may be guid but she is better ; She's nane o' them, Sir, that gangs roun' Baith day and nicht frae toon to toon, Displaying a' their whigmaleeries, To gar men's heads spin roun' like peeries ; An' shawin' aff their eloquence. An' a' they hae but common sense ; Raisin' conventions, makin' speeches, Claiming their richt to wear the breeches — Their richts be hanged 1 'twould serve them weel To shake them a' within a creel ; Or may be what would suit them better, To dook them in a pail o' water. An' set the bairns to jeer and daff them, Till ance't they got the clockin aff them. f O would they tak' yours for a sample, She'd set them a' a guid example ; ( POEMS AND :OMGS. Instead o' gaun roun' m l.in' speeches, Dressed up in bloomer hats and breeches, Dining wi* editors an' pastors, Crammin' their wames wi' clams an' oysters, She'd teach them how to mend a sark, An' ither kinds o' household wark ; Whilk's mair becomin' o' their station, Than makin' laws to rule a nation. 6^ eel . But if they want to try their han' At makin' laws, I'm no the man To say them nay ; Indeed I'd rather They'd send the hale pack aff thegither, An' at their head put Lucy Stone, That bold, undaunted Amazon ; Unto Newfoundland tak' the road, To settle this question 'bout the cod ; Or aff across the Atlantic main, To try an' pick a King for Spain — It may be that wi' a' their clatters They'd beat the men at sic like matters. But, Sir, I'll hae to quat my sang, For fear I may say aught that's wrang ; Meanwhile, I wish you hale and weel — Lang may you live, my canty chiel ; May peace an' comfort still be yours. Content be aye within your doors — May poverty ne'er learn the road, That tak's him doon to your abode ; vi t V- I J'! 11 j' 70 tOEMS AND SONCS. An' after niony years hae past, An' ye are ta'en awa at last, An' lyin' number'd wi' the deid, We'll raise a stane aboon your held, Whaur ilka ane may proudly sc'n— "Here lies a worthy, honest man." POEMS AND SONGS. n %o Mm. Jttttvrag, QEsq., Hamilton. AUTHOR OF A POEM ENTITLED THE "SCOTTISH PLAID.' Dear Sir, I've read your plaidie thro', And think a guid deal o' it, too. It is the best I've seen frae you This year or main If credit's gi'en whaur credit's due, Ye'll get your share. Ye ken I'm no inchned to flatter ; I'd rather live on bread and water, Than wi' fause praise a man bespatter To gain a fee. Or try to mak' my tongue to utter A fulsome lee. Sae ye'l) believe me when I say I like your hamely cantie lay. It minds me o' a bygane day. When I took pride To wander out at gloamin' gray, Wrapp'd in my plaid. But Scottish bards will never lose Their love for plaids or Athol brose ) I'd take the rascal by the nose That would deride 72 POEMS AND SONGS. n n *b Whate're such bards as you compose Aboot the plaid. Ye've read, when Burns was young and crouse, That Mrs. Scott, o' Wauchope Hoose, Presented him, for his ain use, A gaucy plaid : Wi't on him, aft he woo'd the Muse By Lugar's side. ..If O, Burns ! thou bard aboon a' ithers, That wanted mankind to be brithers, A' ae man's bairns, tho' different mithers ; Lang will ye shine. The rhymes we mak' are only blethers Compared wi' thine. There's mony mair that I could name, That claimed auld Scotia for their hame— Men wha had trod the path of fame Before they died — Wha thocht it honor, not a shame, To wear a plaid. Bear witness, Campbell, Motherwell, And thou, sweet-songster Tannahill ; Scott, Hogg and Ramsay, and Macneil, Men truly great, i^ae bards that dimb'd Parnassus' hill, Ere sang mair sweet. POEMS AND SONGS. But we can ne'er expect to shine In sic a worthy, honor'd line O' bards like these ; but never min', We'll do our best, And court the favors o' the Nine Amang the rest. But, sir, ye'll think I'm daft, I fear. Lang may you hae a plaid to wear. And may you aye, frae year to year, Add to your fame. Until a' worthy folk revere " My Murray's " name. 73 ).'■ -I :i U I»OEMS AND SONGS. ^0 Jlliam ^voU)tt, €0q., Hamilton, on his llcturn from (Scotland. Respected Sir — I've heard you've been Across the saut sea faem, To spend the summer months 'mang scenes And freens you lo'ed at hame. I'm glad you hae got back again, And welcom'd will you be By a' your freen's in Canada — And nane mair sae than me. Stan's Scotland whaur she did, my freen', Or is her glory fled ? Does auld Ben Nevis, 'mang the clouds. Still raise his rev'rent head ? Does a' her tow'ring heath-clad hills Still Stan' erect and free — Her cascades, streams, and mountain rills Still rin to join the sea ? Stan's Scotland whaur she did, my freen' ? Come tell me, gin you ken. If aye the same auld spirit reigns On mountain, moor and glen ? Does " Scots wha hae^ wi' Wallace bled " Still cheer her on her road ; i ^ 1»0EMS AND SONGS. Has she still men wha daur to tread The path which Knox has trod ? Stan's Scotland whaur she did, my freen', As in the days lang syne, When her brave sons — proud, fearless ones— Hae shed their bluid like wine ? Does she still battle for the " rieht," Opposing a' that's wrang ? Does '* Corra Linn,"* wi' merry din Aye sing the same auld sang ? Stan's Scotland whaur she did, my freen* ? Oh ! how I'd Hke to see The place whaur *' Castle Dangerous,"! stan'a ; It's unco dear to me. Oh ! for ae balmy day in June, When nature 's in its pride, Just ae lang summer afternoon To wander by the Clyde. I'd like to see the " Brigs o' Ayr," And that auld haunted Kirk Whaur Tam O'Shanter stood and glowr'd At witches thro' the mirk ; I'd like to see the ''thackit cot," To which the whole world turns, And kneel beside that sacred spot Whaur lies our Minstrel Burns. 7S ♦ The Falls of Clyde. f The Castle of the Douglass'. m. t' li! I 76 POEMS ANU SONGS. I'd like to Stan' on " Ettrick's Banks," Or whaur the " Yarrow " flows; Or on the field of Bannockbum Whaur Scotland drubb'd her foes ; And I could spend a day or twa, Or may be even three, Whaur Claverhouse, that daring Dell, Gaed riding thro' Dundee. I'd like to speel Ben Lomond's side, "Whaur bold Macgregors dwell, Or spend a canny hour within Dumbarton's bonnie dell. Auld Stirling's towers, Dunedin's bowers- I'd like to see them a'. And hear the surges as they roar And sweep o'er Berwick-Law. It's five-and-twenty year since I Auld Scotia's hills hae trod ; I sometimes doubt I ne'er will see The daisy deck her sod ; But if Dame Fortune kind should prove And health be spared to me, I'll hear her Unties sing again Ance mair before I dee. \ ! POEMS AND SONGS. 77 mo Jttr. ^mi 3\mti. SHoob Market. My worthy, kind, obliging friend, I wish that you would try and send Me down anither load o' wood, And o' be sure you send it good ; But if you dinna. Lord forgie ye, For I will show nac mercy to ye. In times like these, when siller's scarce, And credit's just as bad, or worse, A man requires to think sometimes Before he parts wi' a' his dimes, For deil tak' me if ever I Can get a dollar to lay by. Or else I'd mak' ye send mc doon Enough to last the hale year roun'. But just at present I maun say One cord will be enough to-day ; Some ither time, when siller's plenty, I'll maybe mak' you send me twenty. I had amaist forgot to say I dinna want it right away ; I hae as much as put me thro' At least anither week or two ; But if you see a chance that's fair. And you hae got the time to spare, ! '] ^ 78 ii'' POEMS AND SONGS. Then send it doon without delay, I'm ready for it ony day ; Be sure you send me number one, And get it just as cheap's you can. And now good-bye, my friend and brither. When next we meet wi' ane anither, We'll maybe hae a drap thegither. Meantime I am with love most fervent. Your most obliged and humble servant. m M'i^i POEMS AND SONGS. t9 S' My mither : God bless her 1 (she's deid noo and gane), Was counted baith worthy and wise ; When fechting the battle o' life at her side, She aften gied me her advice ; And, amang ither things, she would say to me whiles, Noo, laddie, keep mind o' this well. Be sure o' the pennies you aye tak' good care, And the pounds '11 tak' care o' themsel'. Sma' beginnings at first mak' big endings at last, If you use ony gumption or care. And you'll like it gey Aveel when a "rainy day" comes, If you've twa-three bawbees you can to spare. It's a puir way to live — frae your hand to your mouth, — You will find that it ne'er answers well, Sae be sure o' the pennies you aye tak' good care, And the pounds '11 tak' care o' themsel'. It's best to be carefu' and thrifty and wise, And live aye inside o' your means ; The shorter you keep your accounts by the heid You'll be thocht the mair o' by your frien's ; Gin you get in their debt then it winna be lang Ere they screed aft" your fauts by the ell, Sae be sure o' the pennies you aye tak' guid care, And the pounds '11 tak' care o' themsel'. I I] 1 8o POEMS AND SONGS. n 1 1. ■j!)' :!'i Ne'er be greedy, nor graspin', nor e'er do what's wrang To get siller to put in your pouch ; I don't want you to think that the chief end o' man Is merely to lee and get rich ; But be steady, industrious, and work hard and save, Sae that comfort may be whaur you dwell, And be sure o' the pennies you aye tak' guid care, And the pounds '11 tak' care o' themsel'. Be sure and be honest, and strive aye to be Independent as far as you can ; Try and mak' your ain way through the world, and then You can haud up your heid like a man. But ne'er turn your back on a worthy auld frier'. Though he may need your help for a spell — Its better if you can gic ithers your help. Than be needing that help for yoursel'. I've kept mi; " o' her words, but truth mak's me say That I neVr could accumulate gear, . Let me do as I would I was aye just as puir At the end o' ilk following year ; It may be that I've been a guid deal to blame, For not looking after it well. But the pennies were aye geyin' scarce, and somehow The pounds kept awa' by themsel'. But I'd say to a' them that are starting in life, (Though it ne'er has done me muckle guid), To tak' care o' the brawbees that pass through your hands, For you never ken what you may need ; POEMS AND SONGS. 8t The best o' us meet with mishanters at times, Which the wisest folk canna foretel, Then be sure o' the pennies you aye tak' guid care, And the pounds '11 tak' care o' themsel'. ui ft &i POEMS AND SONGS. I I'' i' 13 f< M km fl 'Ikerc'e Jftitkle aTrw nnb kittle 5E IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) L6> V] <^ /: ^^ j^^ <>^ y y^ 1.0 I.I ■^ 1^ 12.2 - lis IIIIIM 1.8 L25 1.4 J4 ' < 6" — ► fliotographic Sciences Corporation \ •SJ 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 ■ti 5;° ^^ (/.. M % \ \ v\ ■' I m \ v-% hi! 9». POEMS AND SONGS. [Lines written on the death of my Brother-in-Law, A. McIntyre.] My lease o' life is nearly run, I ken I'm deein' noo ; It canna be much langer ere I hae to pairt v/i' you. I feel my end is drawin' near, but that brings me nae pain, Unless the thochts o' leaving you within the warld alane. I'm glad my reason still remains to talc' fareweel o' thee — In a' our trials you hae been a guid, guid wife to me ; Be it your comfort when I'm gane to think I lo'ed ye weel, An' ne'er had ony fau'ts to you, ye've aye been true an' leal. Then dinna greet, my bonnie doo, as if your heart wud break, it mak's me laith to leave the warld if only for your sake ; I ken ye'll hae an unco fecht, ye'll hae to struggle sair, A puir man's widow meets wi' much that's geyin' hard to bear. But ye maun put your trust in Him wi' whom my peace is made, An' then let come or gang what will you needna be afraid. He mak's the wind blaw saft at nicht to lammies on the lea. An' dinna doubt but what He'll tak far greater care o' thee. 'tI POEMS AND SONGS. 93 tt pleased the Lord to tak' frae us our bonnie bairnies twa, An' weel I ken ye miss'd them sair when they were ta'en awa; But Providence sustained you then, an' sae it will do noo — If ye'll be guided by God's grace He'll bring you safely thro'. I aften think aboot our bairns, (I'll sune be wi* them noo), I dreamt ;, weesyne that they baith cam' back to me an' you. Wee Allie took my han' in his, his een shone clear an' bricht. An' Isa whispered in my ear ^^ you* re gaun ivi' us the nicht : " We'll tak you, faither, to a place that's free frae earthly care, An' things that cause you trouble here will never vex you mair ; There's naethin' there that gangs ajee, there's nocht that can annoy, It's a' a roun' o' endless bliss, an' happiness, an' joy." I tauld them I wud gang wi' them, an' O 1 but they were glad; But when I turn'd around an' saw you sittin' there sae sad, The thochts o' what you yet micht dree before me quickly past, An' I said I wudna leave you yet, my first luve an' my last. There's somethin' pu'in' at my heart, I canna tell ye mair, Wheesht, hinny, O ! be comforted, you maunna greet sae sair ; Compose yoursel' an* try an' say the Lord's ain will be dune^ — That's richt, we'll no be pairted lang, we'll sune meet up aboon. Ml 94 POEMS AND SONGS. Noo put your arms around my neck an' kiss me ere I dee ; It is the last ye'll ever get upon this earth frae rne. I feel the pressure o' your lips, but canna see yoursel', I hear Christ sayin', " Come awa" — fareweel, God bless you, Bell. :y "i h] ;: POEMS AND SONGS. 95 He's awa, he's awa to the *' land o' the leal," Frae this world o' sorrow and pain, And it tried me sair to say fareweel When he left me a' alane, But in my inmost heart I feel That my loss has been his gain. He's awa, he's awa, and he winna come back, And my een wi' tears are dim, And my heart is sometimes like to break That I canna gang to him. I ken its wrang, but I'm frail and weak, And the future, whiles, looks grim. He's awa, he's awa where I ken he'll meet . Wi' our bonnie bairnies three, And aften in their unions sweet, They will kindly talk o' me, And speak o' a time that's coming yet, When we'll a' united be. O Thou who art the widow's friend, Her comfort, hope and stay ! Thy counsel still unto me lend, Watch o'er me day by day, And guide me on unto the end Of life's lattg welry way. ■ fP 96 POEMS AND SONGS. ih £ioi i;o0t but done fefore. ON THE DEATH OF MY CHILD. We've nae wee Lily noo, Maggie, We've nae wee Lily noo ; Death's laid his cauld, damp, icy han' Upon her bonnie broo. That broo whaur gowden ringlets play'd, Aboon her een o' blue. 'Twas destined sae to be, Maggie, 'Twas destined sae to be, That God should tak' awa' the gift He gied to you and me ; 'Twas hard to part wi't ; sorrow's aye A bitter thing to dree. She looked some like yoursel, Maggie, She looked some like yoursel ; How much I lo'ed her nane but He Wha kens our hearts can tell. We will not murmur at His will, He doeth all things well. We*ll miss her unco sair, Maggie, We'll miss her unco sair; But ?he has gane whaur grief and pain Will never reach her mair — Whaur flowerets bloom and shed perfume In Heaven's garden fair. POEMS AND SONGS. We will not mourn her noo, Maggie, We will not mourn her noo ; She isna lost but gane before — Just hidden frae our view ; She's better aff than she could be, Were she still here wi' you. We'll meet wi' her again, Maggie, We'll meet wi' her again, When we hae passed thro' death's dark vale, And crossed o'er Jordan's plain ; 'Mang ither lammies in Christ's fauld We'll see our ain wee wean. 97 1 .: 'i ! J 5 * 98 POEMS AND SONGS. I i 1 (Read Before the St. Andrew's Society, Hamilton.) Hail, Scotland ! land o' mickle fame, Where a' my forbears found a hame, Where poets, sages and divines. In pleasant places cast iheir lines — Where honor, truth and worth are found. And every " neuk" is ** hallowed ground." Land o' my sires ! tho' far away, I greet thee on St. Andrew's Day. I'm aye Canadian, a' the year, Until Saint Andrew's Day draws near, And then the Scotch blood fires my veins— Auld Scotland the ascendant gains, And vividly before my min' Comes back the days o' Auld Lang Syne ; When I by Kelvin's streams hae roved. To dream and muse on things I loved — Or wandered doon by Scotston Wood, And there at eve enchanted stood To hear the blackbird trill his lays. And sing his evening sang o' praise, Just ere the sun had sunk to rest In that dear land he loves the best. ^ ' Leeze me ! on thee, Auld Scotland, dear, Tho' parted four-and-twenty year, POEMS AND SONGS. 99 Thy memory is as fresh and green As the' I'd left you but yestreen ; And if I'd live a hunder year, To me ye'd aye be just as dear. Wha wadna love that mountain land. Where Bruce and Wallace drew the brand That first gave freedom to her sons, And made their memories hallow'd ones ? Wha wadna love ilk flowery dell, O'er which Scott threw his magic spell, Where poesy enraptured reigns, And sweetly sings in Doric strains ? Wha wadna love the land which gave To Truth sae mony martyrs brave. That didna fear to draw their sword To fecht the battles o' the Lord, — Wha for their conscience boldly stood. Drenched to the very knees in blood, And fearless shed their ain that we, Their sons, should be forever fr*^ - To worship God, by nicht or day. As our ain conscience points the way ? Wha wadna love its hills and dales. Its blooming haughs and fertile vales. Its broomy knowes and heath-clad fells, The sweet sound o' its Sabbath bells. Its grand auld kirks and worthy men. Its martyrs' cairns on hill and glen. Its bonnie, blooming, blacH-e'ed queans—r 4 It < v i :'i''' \ i 100 POEMS AND SONGS. Ilk ane o' them like " Jeanie Deans ;" Its bards wha sang o' bonnets blue, Its pibrochs, plaids, and mountain dew ? — A recreant loon that Scot must be Wha disna love and honor thee. My country ! on thy shrine I lay A heart that beats as true this day As when I said fareweel to thee. To follow fortune o'er the sea. Thou ither Scotland unto me, Dear as adopted land can be, Fair Canada ! for thee I feel A deep heart-interest in thy weal. Altho' thou hast not gi'en them birth. The dearest anes to me on earth Have found a grave upon thy soil, To rest frae a' their cares and toil. O may thy sons and daughters fair A robe of truth and virtue wear ! Be they the guardians of thy fame, And earn for thee an honor'd name Among the nations of the earth For valor, justice, truth, and worth. Long may thy banners proudly wave O'er freeborn maids and patriots brave ! And sparkling on their silken sheen Like brilliants, may these words be seen, (When to the breeze they are unfurl'd) — " Peace and Good-will to All the World ! " POEMS AND SONGS. lOI lltmembcr the |joor. (Respectfully dedicated to the Members of St. Andrew's Society, Hamilton.) " Poor, naked wretches, wheresoe'er you arc, that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, how shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you from seasons such as these."— Shakspearb. The simmer days are past an' gane, An' a' their beauty's fled ; The flowers that bloom'd sae fresh an' fair Are wither'd now an' dead. Auld winter has come roun' ance mair, Wi' sleet, an' cauld, an' rain, An' frost an' snavv will reign supreme For twa-three months again. I'll no misca' the winter time, Altho' its blasts are keen, An' snaw-drifts lie wliaur shortly since The buddin' flowers were seen ; - . For ilka season has its joys An* pleasures o' its ain, An' Chris'mas comes in winter time To cheer our hearts again. But when I think upon the puir, My heart is wae an' sad ; ' Nae pleasure does it bring to them — Half-fed an' no half-clad. * I 1 I }02 POEMS AND SONGS. God help them a' whaure'er they be, For mickle help they need That hae nae siller in their pouch, Nor house aboon their heid. O ! mony are the ills, I trow, That puir folk hae to dree, An' bitter ate the pangs they thole Thro' want an' poverty. Nae wonder, then, they rise sometimes. An' tak' what's been denied, — A starvin' wife an' twa-three weans Are unco sair to bide. Ye wha in cosie parlors sit Beside a cheerfu' fire, Wi' ilka thing aroun' ye that Your wishes can desire. Think what a difference there is Between your state an' theirs : You've nocht but joys on every han' — Their life is fu' o' cares. li Then dinna hoard your siller up. An' keep't frae being seen ; But mak' guid use o' a' the gifts That God to you has gi'en. Gae forth amang the streets an' lanes. An' do whate'er you can To mak' the puir folks' sufferings less. An' help your fellow-man. fl POEMS AND SONGS. An' bear the Golden Rule in min', An' act upon it, too, Aye do to ithers as you would Hac ithers do to you. You'll naething lose tho' ye to them Some little heli) afford ; For them wha gi'es unto the puir, Is lendin' to the Lord. 103 f 4 fl IJ', 104 POEMS AND SONGS. u I'ri H r ■J , ; I* ■ •ill' ^he (fathering ot the Cla»i0. (Respectfully dedicated to the Members of the St. Andrew's Society, of Hamilton.) " Wat ye whds a coming ? " The birthday o' the Queen's coming : The games upon the green's coming ; O'er hill and dale And muir and vale The clans will a' be seen coming. There's mony men o' rank coming ; The Laird o' Athol Bank's coming : Macnab, Macraw, And Service, wha Aye fills a muckle bank's coming. Muir, Murray and McLean's coming ; Buchanan, Binny, Baine's coming ; The Browns and Hopes, McKays, Dunlops, And a' their wives and weans coming. The Frazers, ane and a's, coming ; The Campbells, great and sma's, coming ,; McKenzies, Kerrs, The Findlays, Blairs, The Craigies, Harveys, Law's coming. 1' POEMS AND SONGS. The Sutherland's great clan's coming, And Osborne in the van's coming, The Watsons true, Brave Angus, too. And Dawson and his Nan's coming. McPherson and McNeil's coming, And Roy, a royal chiel's, coming ; And wi' the lave There's mony a brave Descendant o' Lochiel coming. Bruce, Hutchison and Bell's coming ; And Leggat (Mat. himsel's) coming ; And o'er the mead The Hendries lead Mair men than I can tell, coming. Brave chiels frae Tweed and Tay's coming; Braw lads frae Clyde and Spey's coming, And mony a lass, Frae hill and pass. Thinks fondly o' that day coming. Edina's bairns are a' coming. And Aberdeen awa's coming ; And lads frae Doon And Mungo's toon, And " queer folk frae the Shaws " coming. Auld pawky Adam Glen's coming, The Lass o* Hawthornden's coming, 105 ! ' if 4 1 I \ I i s ■) ■ I 'd,^ i! 1 06 POEMS AND SONGS. And Mistress Jean Declared yestreen That she and auld Cockpen's coming. There's strapping lads frae Fife coming, Neil Gow and his giiid wife's coming, And Heather Jock, And Paisley folk, Expanding wi* new life's, coming. There's Eastwoods, Stewarts, Mack's coming, And Robertsons and Jack's coming. St. Andrew's sent A muckle tent, And wi' it Dannie Black's coming. There's Skinners, Reids and Tait's coming, McGiverin, the great's, coming, There's ne'er a Scot In a' the lot, But's proud to be his mate, coming. Our auld Saint will look doon, then, On ilka ane aroun', then ; Weel pleased he'll be His bairns to see, Frae country and frae toon, then. Dundurn ! thy towers will ring, then ; Our cares will a' tak' wing then ; The pipes will play, And blythe and gay We'll dance the Highland fling, then. POEMS AND SONGS. 107 AuLD Scotia's games ! Auld Scotia's games I like to see them a': They bring thegither buirdly chiels, And bonnie lasses bravv ; They wile us frae our cares at times, And frae our cosy hames ; It's pleasant whiles to spend a day To see Auld Scotia's games. It's grand to see the caber tossed, Or watch them throw the quoit ; And when the " Gillie Callum's " danced, It fills us wi' delight. It cheers the heart and fires the bluid To dance a blythe Strathspey Wi' some young sonsie queen wha's een Are black as ony slae, It brings our native hills and dales And glens again around', To see the pipers in their kilts Gaun marchin' up and doon ; And hear them play some warlike air, Or some auld cantie spring, Till lads and lasses loup like daft. And dance the Highland fling. » 4 f 1 ^!. m zo8 POEMS AND SONGS. I- 1 Oh, Canada ! I lo'e ye weel ! Altho' nae son o' thine, Within thy wide domain their beats Nae truer heart than mine ; But when a day like this comes roun', Auld Scotia has her claims : The thistle aye comes uppermost — I gang to see the games I (Sui POEMS AND SONGS. 109 (Sung at a supper given him by the St. Andrew's Society, Hamilton, Ontaiio,) Air— "^j/ Mit/ier Mend't my Auld Breeks." There's some wha sing o' Lords and Dukes, And men like Julius Caesar ; I sing an honest, worthy man — His name is Peter Fraser. Altho' he isna what ye ca' Ane o' these titled gentry, He's been a credit to us a'— An honor to his country. A fig for Peers and Potentates, Or ony King or Kaiser ; We've men amang us truly great, And ane is Peter Fraser. When Nature thought she'd mak' a man That never wud disgrace her, She gaed awa' to Inverness — That queer, auld-fashioned place, sir — no POEMS AND SONGS. 'I j !. .I^ ii: And lang she wrought baith night and day Ere she got ane to please her ; At length (o' giiid auld Hieland clay) She made up Peter Fraser. Then a fig for Peers and Potentates, &c. How well she's done her handiwork His actions aye ha'e shown us ; For deeds speak louder far than words, And muckle guid he's done us. If merit meets wi' due respect. Then Peter will get plenty ; There's no ae man deserves it mair In nineteen out o' twenty. Then a fig for Peers and Potentates, &c. The Highland bluid that warms his veins, Frae sires he did inherit, Wha hardly kent what failure meant, Sae dauntless was their spirit ; And men wha storm'd Quebec wi' Wolfe, Or wi' Ross climb'd the glaciers, Had hearts made out o' just such stuff As that o' Peter Fraser's. Then a fig for Peers and Potentates, &c, 3aint Andrew's sons will miss him sair Whene'er he leaves the city. -* ( High i fashion Highla sweeth ness, w na^cudi POEMS AND SONGS. For he has always foremost been Upon the path of duty ; And mony a puir but honest Scot By him has been befriended — His heart was open to their wants, His hand was aye extended, III I ', Then a fig for Peers and Potentates, &c. Now, Peter, lad, we're unco sad, And sairly does it grieve us, To think that you and your guid wife Are gaun awa' to leave us ; But when you get to Inverness, She aften will remind ye. While ye on " Clach-na-cudin "'' sit, O' friends you left behind ye. While wand'ring by the banks o' Ness, Amang the blooming heather, Ye'll think on mony happy nights That we ha'e spent thegither. '' Clach-na-cudin ; literally, the Stone of the Tub— a famous old stone in the High Street of Inverness, where, in days gone by, when the now thriving and fashionable capital of the Scottish Highlands was a mere fishing " Clachan," the Highland maidens were wont to rest with their tubs, (and, of course, meet their sweethearts), on the way to or from " washing" in the Ness. No visitor to Inver- ness, with any regard for the sacred things of auld lalig syne, fails to sit on Clachc nii'Cudin. 'I ri I 'T l*-;l 112 POEMS AND SONGS. May naething happen you or her Will gi'e ye cause for grievin' ; , May fortune, friends, and a' that's guid, Be yours as lang's ye're leivin' ; May Heaven send you o' its gifts It's very choicest treasures, And bless your wife, and hae a care O'er a' the little Frasers. Then, lads, around the jorum pass, And dinna scrimp the measure ; And fill a cup, and toast it up To worthy Peter Fraser. POEMS AND SONGS. "3 I ^ht ^ttib tail8. \l'^ ISO POEMS AND SONGS. Hamilton. In free and fair Ontario the summer sun looks down, On many a goodly city and on many a thriving town ; But in our wide Dominion there is not a single one That has a better claim to fame than that of Hamilton. Her white-winged messengers of trade sail over lake and sea, And north and south and east and west their flags are flying free ; While through her midst, with fiery breath, like lightning in its course. And bearing commerce in its train, there speeds the iron horse. The busy hum of industry upon her streets is hieard. And Science vies with Art, and Toil brings home a fair reward ; Her artizans have earned a place upon the scroll of fame, And Europe's sons have learned to pay respect unto her name. Her merchants in their dealings have a reputation won For honor and integrity that is excelled by none. At home, abroad, their enterprise and energy we trace ; Wherever sterling worth ranks high they hold an honor'd place. POEMS AND SONGS. 121 We have no gorgeous palaces, no airy cloud-capp'd tow'rs, No halls of regal state within this " Hamilton of ours ; " But we have homes where virtue reigns, and peace and comfort dwell, And churches filled with worshippers when sounds the Sabbath bell. No fairer maids tread God's green earth than Hamilton can boast — Though fair their forms, it is not that for which we prize them most; It is their loveliness of mind wherein their merit lies, And modest, unassuming worth finds homage in our eyes. And should their homes endanger'd be, our maidens need not fear, In their defence we well can trust each gallant volunteer. The trust we have reposed in them is sacred to them all — " Aye ready," are they when they hear the bugle's stirring call. Thy sons and daughters, Hamilton, may well feel proud of thee. Thy record in the past is good, great will thy future be ; Within this glorious land of ours ( and there's no land more blest,) There's many a goodly city, but I love our own the best. " 1 f' i 1 J i If ' i ^1 1 Iff POEMS AND SONGS. I vl Mil I? ; In the long ago, in the happy days When you and I were young, We wandered o'er the sunny braes, Where clustering hazels hung ; We gathered sloes and berries red, Where the crystal streamlets flow. And the lark sung gaily o'er our head. In the happy long ago. Jn the happy days, in the long ago When we sat 'neath the birchen tree. And the sun shone down on your hair so brown, And your eyes looked love to me ; The throstle piped in joy to his mate, When, in accents soft and low, You whisper'd me my bride you'd be In the happy long a^o. ?? Your hair is tinged with silver now. And we both are growing old, But the love we pledged each other then Has never since grown cold ; Our summer is past, and autumn has come — It will soon be winter's snow, But my heart beats true as it did to you In the happy long ago, POEMS AND SONGS. Ah ! wife, the time will come when we In the churchyard will be laid, And the friends that loved us when in life Will forget us when we're dead ; May we lie together side by side Till the angel's trump shall blow, And the Christ has come who died for us In the long, long, long ago. '»3 I 4 'n. ' I ■ 'i !i» 134 POEMS AND SONGS. i:,' •! ij ♦: Iff f>,;. « Four little feet Coming down the street, Flying along as if running a " heat ;" Two happy faces beaming with joy, One little girl and one little boy. She with her bright eyes comes bounding along — He with his rosy cheeks, healthy and strong, Laughing and shouting as onward they come To welcome their father from work coming home ; Two little mouths are held up for a kiss, Causing a heart-thrill, a feeling of bliss — What joy in the world is equal to this ? Their mother keeps watch at the cottage door. And her heart with love it is nmning o'er ; Well pleased, she sees, looking down the street. That her husband seems happy their children to meet. As he raises the youngest one up in his arms (Its face all glowing with Nature's charms), In those great round arms of his, so strong, While they merrily chat to him coming along. And he lists to the talk of his children twain. Overjoyed to be with them at evenmg again. And the face of their mother beams bright with a smile, As slie welcomes her husband come back from his to"!. He enters the house and sits down in liib chair, Ajid sa3^, while they gather around him there : POEMS AND SONGS. "5 1. " This is the bank where my wealth is stored, And none has a treasure that's more adored." Then he turns to the table and rev'rently says : " All Gracious Father, to Thee be the praise, For food, and for raiment, and covering, we Desire to be thankful, O Lord, unto Thee, For health and each blessing we daily enjoy. And for that peace of mind there is naught can destroy. Accept of our thanks, Lord, again and again, And pardon our sins for Thy Son's sake. Amen." Grace ended, his wife gaily serves out the tea, And a sweet little, blithe little woman is she. With his girl beside him, and his boy on his knee, No king in the world is prouder than he. While he lists to their prattle the meal passes by. An hour more for playing, and their bed-time draws nigh. And the four little feet, That ran down the street. Are weary and tired now, and worn out complete. Then their mother unrobes them and puts them to bed, (But not until after their prayers have been said), In a few minutes after there comes a " wee cheep," '* Dust tiss us once more 'Pa, an' we go to seep." He enters their room and he bends down his head, And says, while he looks at them nestling in bed, " God keep you my children, all safe and all right, Now,then, both of you kiss me," "good night, Pa," "dood nite." < 1 r i « il !|i . "1p I i nn i\ i (h- 126 POEMS AND S0N09. ^tsiJfitd the ^eal). ON THE DESECRATION OF GRAVES IN CEMETERIES. Give something to the dead. Give what t Respect, — Knowles. Shame on the sacrilegious wretch Would pluck the heart-gifts from a grave, And, in mere wantonness, destroy Those .tributes which affection gave ! Gave to the memory of those Who from this earth have passed away ; Are they not records which denote Our love for them knows no decay ? The Widow sows flowers on the grave Of him who loved her well in life ; The Husband pays respect through them To her who was his faithful wife. The Orphan, weeping, kneels beside The grave that holds her parents dear, And puts "a sweet remembrance" there, And waters it with many a tear. Yon maiden with the pensive brow, Mourns one she knew who loved her well ; And, bending o'er his grave at eve, She strews the plaintive immortelle^ POEMS AND SONGS. "7 Those places sacred are to them, Whatever they may be to you ; And were you just and pure in heart, You would hold them in reverence, tc x That flower, so rudely torn apart, A loving Mother's hand placed there, In memory of a darling child, She watched and nursed with tender care. But all her care availed her naught — Death took her bonny blue-eyed boy — That spot she cherishes so dear Would you maliciously destroy ? Have you no thought-— care you for naught — Is every spark of feeling fled, • • That thus you basely desecrate Those sacred " dwellings of the dead " ? " Flowers are God's children," and where'er Love may have placed them, let them stand ; Nor with unhallowed hands profane Those emblems of the " Better Land." 1 ii! U' ia8 POEMS AND SONGS. 1^ . « 1':. J ! i.. . : 1 .-; ^he ©ngine briber. {Rtsptctfully dedicated to the Engine Drivers on the Great Western Railway of Canada.) Rattle along, my Iron Steed, So lithe of limh and free ; There's somebody fifty miles away That is wishing God speed to thee. There's somebody sits in the cot by the track Beguiling the time with a song; Whose eyes will sparkle with pure delight When she sees thee come bounding along. Then merrily, cheerily rattle along, Thy sinews of steel are ' c^igh and strong. Rattle along, my Iron Steed, Merrily over the rail ; Thy course is fleeter and swifter far Than a ship before the gale ; The eagle swooping down on its prey Cannot cope with thee in speed ; The mountain stag on his native hills Is no match for thee, my steed. Then merrily, cheerily rattle along, Thy sinews of steel are tough and strong. Now, now thy breathing quicker comes, My hand is on thy rein ; I , POEMS AND SONGS. Step out, my beauty, and falter not, Till ye carry me home again, — For Maggie she sits in the little porch Along with our children three, And I know they arc looking with longing eyes, And watching for you and me. Then merrily, cheerily rattle along. Thy sinews of steel are tough and strong. Well done, well done ! we are nearing home. And my heart is beating fast : One minute more and we'll round the curve — There's the signal post at last ! Nay, pause not yet, but rattle along, With cheerful merry birr. The shriek from thy brazen throat will sound Like music sweet to her. Then merrily, cheerily rattle along, Thy sinews of steel are tough and strong. 129 Guessed I not right ? See, there she is. Outside the cottage door, And the ribbon fluttering in her hair Is a welcome semaphore. Lord love my babe, how it laughs and crows, And keeps jumping upon her knee ; While Willie and Annie are out on the stile, Both waving their hands to me. Then merrily, cheerily rattle along, Thy sinews of steel are tough and strong. ,1. l! I . 130 PO£,A(S AND SONGS. God bless you, my wife ! now halt, my steed, Our labor has not been vain ; There's many a woman as well as she Will bless thy coming again. There's many a one will be glad to-night, And some that will wish God speed To the men who bring them such precious freight, And who ruleth the Iron Steed. Now rest thee, my steed, our labor is done. And to-monow again we'll be up with the sun. ''•■'I ■if m nil? _ - ■ *^ [1 / i^' POEMS AND SONGS. 131 ^ <§abbatli Moxxx'a '^t\icxxc. { Composed whilst beholding the sun rise near the beautiful residence of John Brown, Esq., at five o'clock in the morning, May 25th 1873.) Bless God for this holy sabbath morn, While the robins their early matins are singing, And the maples are spreading their foliage of green, And the air with a tremulous joy is ringing ! All Nature, in its various ways, Is sending forth its Maker's praise. The city lies hush'd in a holy calm, While the sun is shedding his beams abroad, And everything seems as fresh and pure As it was when it came from the hands of God. Like a mirror of silver shines the Bay-— As clear and as bright as the Milky Way. Its great heart-throbs are silent and still — Not a ruflfie appears to disturb its breast ; As I gaze on it from the brow of the hill, It seems to add to the placid rest 0.f this peaceful morn. What a pleasure and bliss If all our morns were a Sabbath like this ! Like this ! It seems a foretaste of the time Which the Lord hath promised to us will be given When His will shall be done upon this earth As it is already done in Heaven. O Lord, list the prayer of a heart sincere, Save all who abide in the city here ! I I ' t 132 POEMS AND SONGS. ICittle W^zzu. Little Lizzie, bright and fair ; Lizzie with the golden hair ; Eyes that beam with Hfe and love- Sweet wee totum, cooing dove. Winsome, gleesome, prattling pet, Rosebud, snowdrop, violet, Zephyr,' wafting here and there — Lizzie with the golden hair. Teasing, pleasing, laughing thing, Joyous as a bird in Spring; Brooklets, singing as they nm. Glancing, dancing in the sun, Are not merrier thctn thou art : Bless thy gentle loving heart; Heaven keep thee in its care — Darling, with the golden hair, i I h POEMS AND SONGS. 133 Rain, rain, welcome again ! Long have we wished for thee, wished but in vain ; Now thou art come with thy blessings again, Glad welcome we give thee, thou heart-cheering rain. Welcome to flow'rets long drooping their heads, Welcome to streams nearly dry in their beds, Welcome to forest and mountain and plain, Welcome, thrice welcome, thou swift-falling rain. Welcome to herds on the parched mountain's brow, Welcome to flocks in the valley below, Welcome to meadow and orchard and grain, Everything's singing thy welcome again. Welcome art thou to the tired sons of toil. Lighting our faces again with a smile, Cooling the fever that bums in our brain, A thousand times welcome, thou life-giving rain. I Jki ff4 POEMS AND SONGS. ©ttr Ronnie ^jxjj. O BRIGHTLY sliincs the summer sun Upon our bonnie bay ! Our little bark at anchor rides And chafes to get away. The crystal wavelets kiss her prow, And glance along her side ; Ontario woos her with its smiles, As lover woos his bride, Then go with me, my winsome quean. And spend the summer day — Where health is found and joys abound- Upon our bonnie bay. The breeze that fills our swelling sail Will waft us gaily on, Where little Islets, green and fair, I ie basking in the sun. The zephyrs cool will fan thy brow, And through thy tresses play ; Thy cheek will gain a richer hue Upon our bonnie bay. Then go with me, my winsome quean, And spend the summer day — Where health is found and joys abound- Upon our bonnie bay. I\ POEMS AND SONGS. O brightly shines the summer sun On forest, hill and dale ! And from the woodlands comes the breath Of many a perfumed vale. All nature wears its richest garb, To lure you forth to day ; But nowhere does it look so sweet As round our bonnie bay. Then go with me, my winsome quean, And spend the summer day— Where health is found and joys abound- Upon our bonnie bay. W' 136 POEMS AND SONGS. rr M I li.i' iin}jrotnptn, ON SEEING A MAGNIFICENT BUFFALO'S HEAD PACKED FOR TRANS- PORTATION TO EUROPE. Great monarch of the Western Prairie, hail ! Shorn of thy strength, thy head' lies prostrate — low ; Time was, when thou wert swift and sure of foot, And strong of heart and limb — brave Buffalo. Was it a rifle-bullet pierced thy breast — Or feathered shaft from painted Redskin's bow? Or did some " brave," more daring than the rest, Get thee entangled in the strong lasso ? Oft thou has sported at the even-tide. With thy loved mate, beside some glassy stream ; Vaulting and coursing with a Bison's pride, When life to thee was like a summer's dream. Or pranced along the Prairie by her side, The maddest, merriest of the Bovine race ; Watching with jealous care thy dark-eyed bride, When danger threatened, and thy foes gave chase. No more the grass will bend beneath thy tread ; For thee the salt-lick spring may now run dry — The herd no more will follow in thy lead ; Forever's dimmed the flashing of thine eye. POEMS AND SONGS. 137 !iS- I Great chieftain of the plains ! with visage sage, (Save when in am'rous mood, thou woo'd thy mate,) Jove's thunderbolts were nothing to thy rage, Could'st thou but view thy present trunkless state. Europa's sons will gaze on thee with dread, When thou art borne in safety o'er the brine ; And look, perchance, upon thee as the " head" Of (not) the " Allan,'' but the " BiiffaU line." Mayhap they'll crack some jokes upon thy '^'^nui," There are but few will mourn thy overthrow ; 'Tis natural for men to make a butt Of " Lo, the poor Indian," and the Buffalo. 138 POEMS AND SONGS. II ;r iii I' Hail balmy spring ! — all but the balm — the balm is all my eye,— Thou com'st again, to deck the earth with rich and gorgeous dye; The Frost King's revelled long enough with all his icy train, With gladsome hearts — ^just new thawed out — we welcome thee again. The Winter's passing from us now, while you come right along. And, like an honest shoemaker, the sun is waxing strong. The " beautiful" is vanishing, the robins try to sing, " Old Probabilities " declares that these are signs of Spring. The brooks that were ice-bound are " loose," and gambol on their way, As blythe as lambkins in a field upon a summer's day. Frost jewels glitter in the sun and sparkle on the trees ; The influenza still prevails and causes us to sneeze. All nature looks more beautiful, the dry goods clerks begin To titivate themselves again and barberize their chin ; Their hair is parted carefully and smoothed is their cravats, Their wide-awakes are laid aside for highfalutin' hats. Our ladies — bless them one and a:ll ! — ^parade our thorough- fares, POEMS AND SONGS. 1 39 And throw their sweetest smiles away and put on " gushir.g " airs. Whene'er you see them float around Hke swallows on the wing^ Be sure that they are hunting up "tip-tilters"* for the Spring. And who, that has a heart to love, would grudge a treble X — Say once a month — to keep in tune those of the softer sex ? Spring were no Spring were we without their cheery looks and smiles ; Our homes would be the scene of feuds, domestic cares and broils. Boys will be boys ! men will be men ! and o'er the whole world wide Our women now are just the same as Eve when in her pride. No doubt that Adam thought himself abused, you may depend, When Eve first asked a V from him to buy a Grecian bend. Our housemaids sweep our door-steps now; policemen on their "beat" Are casting sheep's eyes here and there on almost every street ; Our Aldermen are sleek and fat, and none the worse for wear And sip their Spring-brewed ale again, and give no thought to care. Long live our Aldermen, say I, and may they " waddle" round, And do whate'er within them lie to keep our taxes down ; When at our doors, at early morn, the Tax Assessors ring, With throbbing hearts we go to greet those " voices of the Spring." I ♦ " Tip-tllters " are the latest style of ladies' ijonnets. I40 POEMS AND SONGS. ■ ft s I I i The whitewash brushes are brought out, and men begin to frown And say " sweet things" whene'er they hear of stove-pipes coming down ; I've said a few myself, and drained the dregs of sorrow's cup, When nailing bedroom carpets down,or putting stove-pipes up. From out their lairs the Hurdy-gurdyists again go forth — These sons of sunny Italy, they always travel north ; With " Darwin Aboriginals,"! who cut the pigeon wing, Our streets are made more lively by those harbingers of Spring. The cuckoo's notes make glad the groves — in England— in the Spring ; . Canadians never hear, nor think, nor dream of such a thing ; Our cuckoos are not musical ; the only notes we know Are I. O. U.'s we sometimes give to Mr. So-and-so. And when these notes are falling due, sad thoughts to us they bring, If we — as is most likely — cannot meet them in the Spring ! I love the Spring with all my heart — ^who would not love what's grand ? I love the cuckoo's notes as well, but not the notes-of-hand. Tom Hood and Thomson sung of Spring, but then they knew their " h'z;" I will not bid it ^ail again — its hailed, and snowed, and friz, Till I am sick and tired of it, and gladly would I bring My mind to think that Winter's gone, and this, at last, is Spring ! t Monkeys. POEMS AND SOI^GS. 141 I ^0 9Em. Durban, anb ihc Iputhun ot Hamilton iibtaifftt, £io. 133, §. of f. (Eneineer^. Dear Brothers in Toil, I received your kind gift Along with your flattering letter ; I was not aware I had ever done aught By which I had made you my debtor. I value your gift — but I value much more The spirit in which it was given ; To have the respect and esteem of our friends, Is something that's always worth having. May the great " Brotherhood," of which you're a part, Continue to prosper and flourish ; The mottoes which you have adopted for it Long may you continue to cherish. With Justice and Truth on your side, and the will To do what is right unto others, Can't fail in the end to be crowned with success, And help to make all mankind Brothers, 'Tis pleasing to think when you're done with this world, That those dear ones you're leaving behind Will receive the reward of your forethought and care From your Brothers, true-hearted and kind. :U ♦ H? 2US AND SONGS. J> May * Burnfield and Morgan, and Torry look down From their home, in the leal-land above. And bless those kind hearts, who first taught you the way To unite in this circle of love. While running along on the railroad of life. Be kind and be just to your neighbours ; And when your trip's ended, be sure you will gain A happy result from your labours. When your fires have gone out, and your engine's laid up. And your whistle no longer is heard. May you hear the glad words — " Faithful servants, well done ; Enter into the joy of thy Lord." All three were killed while doing their duty. PP^MS AND SONGS. '43 way up. done; HAMILTON TO THE RESCUE. Rise fellow-men, up and be doing : Chicago unto you is crying ; Her city is smoking in ruin, The fire-fiend around it is flying ; There are thousands there destitute now, There are thousands are calling for bread, There are thousands who ne'er dream'd of needing your help, Who have nowhere to lay down their head ! Give with a will, and give soon : Do not, oh ! do not delay ; Remember, the evil they suffer from now May be ours yet at some future day ; Sympathize with your deeds, not your words-; Give freely whatever is given; Charity's blessed, and from earth rises up Like a sweet-smelling incense to Heaven ! Up, Hamilton, then, and be doing : Chicago unto you is crying ; Her city is smoking in ruin, The fire-fiend around it is flying ; Come forward unto her relief, And help to dispel all her sorrow ; She has pass'd through a night of great grief, Be it yours to make bright her to-morrow. * Written the evening the city was busy in making up relief to send to Chicago. J44 POEMS AND SONGS. "r ' I i u h Night lifts her mantle from the earth, The stars have gone away, The cheerful songsters in the grove Salute the new-born day. The little flowers, whose tiny cups Have all been filled with dew, Now ope their eyes, in joyous glee, To see the sun burst through. And far o'er hill and dale he spreads His genial beams abroad, While everything in nature sends Its praises forth to God. POEMS AND iJONCS. 145 I I Welcome Erin's Prima Donna, Greet her with a happy throng ; Welcome Erin's hite-toned minstrel, Erin's matchless Queen of Song. Gems from many lands she brings us, Brilliants from the Muse's brain ; Italy declares her peerless, Ma Belle France, and sunny Si)ain. Sweet the lays of ancient Erin To our memory she recalls ; Hark ! the harp again is sounding, As of yore thro' Tara's Halls, While her strains of fairy music Fall on our enraptured ear. Fancy brings the hallow od valleys Of our country to us near. Every scene we loved in childhood, Which we looked upon with pride, Rises, vision-like, before us, Floating o^er memory's tide. There's the stile where sat dear Mary, On that shining summer morn ; 1 1 ik m I h r 1 '■): •II i J I. ! : ' i' , ^IW Pi h !■ 146 POEMS AND SONGS. Sweet the sky-lark's song is ringing O'er the fields of waving corn. Hark the bells of Shandon pealing, Ringing out with joyous glee ; While the autumn moon's revealing All the beauties of the Lea. See the last Rose of the Summer Bending in the evening gale ; List the rippling of the waters In Avoca's lovely vale. Welcome Erin's dark-eyed daughter, Greet her with a happy throng, While in thought we cross the Ocean, To thac land of love and song. • i 1 1 POEMS AND SONGS. 'Iff Jtiss Jttaggit JH . ROSK COTTAGE, HAMILTON. " Every household has its angel." Maggie, darling, you are mine,— Just as good and fair as any In the Eden-land divine. " Every household has its angel." Would to heaven they had two, If each one of them were only Half as good and kind as you. Some there are »vho say that angels Long ago forsook the earth. I deny it ; none but angels Are possessed of half thy worth. What is it makes women angels ? Following out their Maker's plan — Flitting here and there like sunbeams, Doing good where'er they can ; Watching o'er the bed of sickness, Sharing sorrows, care and grief — Minist'ring to those who need it, Striving aye to bring relief. Such thou art, and oh ! may Heaven Blessings shower on thee and thine. " All good angels keep and guard thee," Maggie, darling, angel mine. 147 14$ POEMS AND SONGS. •!' I |i> ' • ON HER TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY. Dear Niece, I got your little note Informing me of what you thought, Of drawing nearer to that state Which all young ladies dread and hate. And you I see are like the rest, Not willing you should stand the test Of letting all your charms decay, Before you " throw yourself away." I think you need not be afraid Of turning out a " cross old maid ;" E'en though your years have reached a score. You'll keep at least a dozen more Before you need to have a care. Or think of dying in despair. So don't sit down and cry and mope. For while there's life, you know, there's hope. I do not want you to delay. Nor throw a single chance away ; But if you have made up your mind, To enter in at Hymen's shrine As soon as you can get a beau. That's willing with you there to go, POEMS AND SONGS. 149 Then let me put you on a plan To get at least a decent man, ^ Don't be a vain, affected prude, Nor yet be forward, bold, or rude ; A maiden can be gay and free. And still possessed of modesty. I'd rather see you kind and true, And wise, in all your actions, too ; Let virtue form your leading part, Be sure you wear it next your heart. That is the brightest, purest gem, That graces woman's diadem ; O ne'er from virtue turn aside, But let it be your constant guide, Then whether you are maid or wife, ' Twill bring you happiness through life. Ne'er play the silly coquette's part. And trifle with an honest heart. Of all vain fools they are the chief, And well deserve to come to grief; But when you find a heart that's true. That beats with honest love for you, Then take your chance among the rest, (It's but a lottery at the best.) There's many that are married now Would give the world to he like you. Some find their path, with roses strewed. And they of course pronounce it good ; While others, from the time they're wed, H IJ ' t «.£ M 150 POEMS AND SONGS. On thorns and thistles make their bed ; O may the first of these be yours, May peace and joy fill up your hours, And may they glide as smooth away, As sunbeams on a summer day ; May never aught that brings distress, Occur to mar your happiness, Live so that death will bring no pain. And die, that you may live again. ' POEMS AND SONGS. 151 ) Take physic, Pomp, Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, that thou may'st shake the superflex to them, and show the Heavens more just. — A'ittg Lear. Dying, dying in hundreds, Starving for want of bread, While thousands of acres remain untill'd, From which millions might be fed. O ! ye rulers of nations. When will this misery cease — When will the laws be made equal for all, That the stores of the poor may increase ? Have ye no bowels of mercy ? Hardened and callous you've grown. Till your hearts have been closed 'gainst the cries of the poor. And when bread's asked you give them a stone, Hark to their famishing groans ! Death takes its stand by their bed ; Women and children and grey-haired sires Are dying for want of bread. Dying, dying in hundreds, Starving with hunger and cold. While nabobs drive fast by the homes of the poor, *' Shining in silver and gold." 'Written at the time of the bread riots in Exeter, England, f 3 M i \: 152 POEMS AND SONGS. Riches and treasures in plenty Are gathered in heaps through the land, While Famine and Misery 's stalking abroad, Like fiends going hand-in-hand. When will the great and the wealthy Be willing to share with the poor ? When will the artisan earn enough To keep back the wolf from his door ? How long will the rich and the strong Tread the poor man down in the dirt ? How long, oh God, how long Must we sing " The Song of the Shirt ?" A f POEMS AND SONGS. 153 I Mhm Jtte '^ow, John ? A few days ago, in a crowded court at the Assizes in Cobourg, a constable called aloud the somewhat familiar name of "John Smith," and received no answer. We question if such a thing could take place anywhere else in the civilized world, — Hatiiilton Times. What's become of all the "John Smiths"? Where's the "dear departed" gone? Is it possible that Cobourg Never has been blessed with one ? Not a " Beak " in all the country ( Barrin' Cobourg's ) but will say That there's some one of the family Up before him every day. What is home without a mother- in-law for to quarrel with ? ( One is just as bad's another,) What's a town without " John Smith ? " Nary one ! Unhappy Cobourg, There is not another place In the world that I have heard of Where John has not shewn his face. Out where polygamy reigneth, Smiths are by the acre found, — " Johns " and " Janes," as thick as locusts, Are encumbering the ground. ill ■ Hr It ■r ^ li I' I. u 154 POEMS AND SONGS. Would it not be well that Cobourg Should immediate action take, And send an order out to Brigham To export some from Salt Lake ? In our other towns and cities They ( the Smiths ) have led the van Till they have become more num'rous Than the famous Ku Klux Klan. Smiths ! the Smiths are hydra headed ; Smiths grow up three deep in rows ; Smiths, in countless hosts and legions, Everywhere have poked their nose. Bummers, barristers and bakers, — Men not easily trifled with ; Doctors, dyers, undertakers — Everybody's called John Smith. Smithe the baliff, Smythe the barber, Schmidt that keeps the grocery store ; 3niith — by Jove ! there's Smith the tailor- Knocking at my chamber door, Wanting me to /e/id him money. Only this and nothing more. Smiths in every hole and corner, — Members both of church and state ; Smiths in millions thro' this vast world Pack and forward emigrate. . ( i. POEMS AND SONGS. When one dies there are a dozen ^ Ready to fill up his room ; There's no doubt but what their line will Stretch unto "the crack of doom." Jf the Smiths all left this planet, . Any one can see quite plain, It would cause so great a vacuum, CHlaos would come back again. On the map of our Dominion Cobourg will become a myth If it can't support sev-er-al Families of the name of Smith. Smith ! I'm out of breath ; the theme is Too great to descant upon. Smith ! good gracious ! here's that tailor Coming back ; so good-bye, John. 155 > » .r: . 1 ' I M r : ll 1 jg B 1 i !g ; :'B ■ Wn 156 POEMS AND SONGS. ^tcon^i QE^jictlc to cUm. Jtturraji. Oseq. My worthy friend and brother bard, King of Acrostics, prince of rhyme. The laurels will be your reward, All your productions are sublime. Green be your bays, and may they bloom And blossom yet for many years ; May happiness reign in your home, Unmixed with sorrows, cares and tears. May you and yours be blessed with all The joys which fortune has in store ; May Heaven be open to your call. What honest man can wish you more ? i ( POEMS AND SONGS. 157 llcplij to the 'Uoast oi the IJrcsjs /// rt Supper and rnsentation given to J. W. Harris, I'^sq., • im^nrompttt REPLY TO THE TOAST OF OUR GUESTS AT A SUPPER GIVEN BY THE B. L. E. DIVISION NO. I33. Mv Brothers, I'm glad to be with you all here, Altho* I am not a Railvay Engineer ; Our connection for years has been drawn down so fine Whate'er was your interest has also been mine ; And I think that I am not committing a sin When I claim to be one of your nea'-est of kin. Be this my excuse for addressing you now, Mr. Chairman, I make you my most polite bow. It gives me great pleasure at present to mention The success which attended your late great Convention, An. :o know that your Order has done so much good, Mubc be pleasing to all in this great Brotherhood. The further and wider its influence extends Has but helped to increase your large circle of friends ; You must be well pleased when you know and you feel There are many good men looking after your weal ; And there's few on this list, I am certain and sure. Has your welfare at heart more than V/illiam K. Muir. You also know well you need never ask twice To find a good friend in our friend Joseph Price ; And, last but not least, in fact, second to none, Is our " ClJef Engineer," W. A. Robinson. But, you must not depend altog-ther on friends, rIVEN BY fine ntion, jood, ends ; lU feel POEMS AND SONGS. If you wish to attain any high worthy ends ; In the world at large you must strive to do good, Remember mankind is one vast Brotherhood. And we do but our duty when we do all we can To improve the condition of our fellow-man ; There are no better mottoes to guide age or youth Than your own one's — Sobriety, Justice and Truth — Be true to yourselves — let your ambition be To found more Divisions like One Thirty-Three. May you all take delight in the good work begun, And try to retain the position you've won. Your path, then, right onward and upward will be. As resistless as Sherman's great " March to the Sea." Excuse my poor speech, it is bad at the best, But I thank you all here, as becometh your guest, 175 ^^ I Muir. / ;) .; ! If I mi If.!! '4 •f Ml '! ^41 ''i. 176 POEMS AND SONGS. SPOKEN AT ST. JAMEs' HALL, HAMILTON, AT A RE-UNION FOR THE PURPOSE OF GETTING WOOD FOR THE POOR. Roguery there is in all trades — that is partly understood ; But there's nothing else than roguery nowadays, in selling wood. Greedy vampires fill our market — men whose consciences are gone. Or if they have any left yet, it has been turn'd into stone. There may be some few exceptions, but they're very seldom seen ; Most of them will try to fleece you if they find that you arc green. Every time they bring a load in, charge you higher than before — Like tiie paupers with the pea-soup, still keep bawling out for more. Only think of what they charge you ! is it really not absurd, That we must pay Seven Dollars, sometimes, for a single cord? There are many in the city who could scarcely buy't before, Now it is out of their power entirely for to purchase any FOR THE lerstood ; in selling isciences stone. y seldom t you are ;her than wling out )t absurd, ir a single ^'t before, :hase any POEMS AND SONGS. i77 See yon poor, half-famished widow — tears are stealing down her cheek — Shivering in her scanty garments, scarcely able e'en to speak ; Having toiled and scraped together all the money that she could, Pleads as if she plead for mercy to obtain a load of wood ! See the burly wretch beside her crack his whip and turn away, — '* Mistress, you can have no wood here from us at that price to-day." Vain her wailing I — vain her pleading ! — back again she must retire To her little famished household, where there's neither food nor fire. Think of this, you that have money — think of what the honest poor, Through the biting days of winter, in their misery must endure ; Think of those whose scanty wages scare; suffice to purchase food, Then you'll come to learn the value there is in a cord of wood. I ■ .1 it 178 POEMS AND SONGS. H ! ' m Canaia'fi' ^Vl^eal to the " ^arig " Crcto. Lay to your oars, my hearts of oak, And do your duty now, For England means to pluck away The laurels from your brow. Our hopes are centred in your powers, Then deftly ply the oar. And try to place your country's flag In triumph at the fore. Then ply your oars, my hearts of oak, And give way with a will ; A long, a strong and steady stroke Will keep you Champions stilL Newcastle glories in her sons, And vaunts her dauntless crew ; Show them that Canada can boast Of gallant oarsmen too — Men who have ne'er defeated been In any race they've run. And who, we hope, will still retain The honors they have won. Then ply your oars, my hearts of oak, And give way with a will ; •Written previout to the first International Match between the St. John, (New Brunswick), crew and that of Newcastle-on-Tyne. It will be remembered it ended in a victory for the Englishmen. POEMS AND SONGS, A long, a strong and steady stroke Will keep you Champions still, Vict'ry has often times before Been seated on your prow — Deserve success and she will not • Forsake or leave you now ; Your country's honor's in your hand, Your laurels still are green, And may another triumph yet Await you at Lachine, Then ply your oars, my hearts of oak, And give way with a will ; A long, a strong and steady stroke Will keep you Champions still. 179 I^Q POEMS AND SOl^GS. I , * m i i ;l ^ht printer. Alas ! poorYorick, I knew him well, Horatio.— Skahfmre. • The Printer leads a happy life — He works both night and day, And spends his hours in usefulness While others sleep or play ; As cheerful as a galley slave He toils his life away. His pockets always are well lined With " nothing much" inside, And as he's not a millionaire, He has not any pride ; He needs but little here below, And little's not denied. From sulmy morn till dewy eve He jogs along his way. Rebuffs he takes for compliments, And almost nix for pay — He seems a sort of " happy cuss" On whom the people prev. To love his neighbor as himself Has always been his plan, And when he's socially inclined He goes to " see a man," are. POEMS AND SONGS. And, in a philanthropic way, Shakes " Old Tom " by the hand. When age creeps on him, and he finds His brows with furrows bent, He meets with sympathizing friends .Who do not care a cent In what way his existence ends. Or howsoe'er 'twas spent. His life he gives for other's good. And though it might seem funny, He lives on bitters all his days Instead of milk and honey, And dies beloved by every man Who ever owed him money. To get his life insured, in life He very often tried, But as he couldn't raise the stamps, He ne'er was gratified ; His epitaph was written thus : " He lived, and moved, and — died." i3i POEMS AND SONGS. i' « ^elajj0 are pangctuu0. Delays are dangerous things, and oft Bring trouble in their train ; One moment lose, and you can ne'er Recall it back again ; Then whatsoe'er you have to do. Don't linger by the way, Or else you'll find the proverb true, There's danger in delay. Shakspeare has said there is a tide In the affairs of men That must be taken at the flood If you would fortune gain ; But if the chance you seize not then, 'Twill ebb and flow away, And seldom e'er returns again- Then trust not to delay. The present moment's all we have That we can call our own : We know not what nor where we'll be Before the day is done ; Then while the sun is shining bright, Be sure you make your hay. And go to work with all your might — There's danger in delay. ,■{ \m POEMS AND SONGS. Procrastination is a thief, And him we all should dread : He steals the time away by which We earn our daily bread ; If you should meet him on the road, Pass on another way, Don't take him back to your abode, There's danger in delay. But take time by the forelock if You want to gain success, For on this, to a great extent. Depends your happiness. Don't let until to-morrow stand What can be done to-day ; Do what you have to do off-hand, And never trust delay. X83 mmm ! 184 POEMS AND SONGS. ' iii W (AFTER PRINCE ARTHUR HAD VISITED LONDON.) The Prince has gone, and I am glad he has ; I wish to Heaven that he ne'er had come ; Confusion no^\ hath made its masterpiece Of ev'rything that is around my home. My halls have been made desolate, and all My Brussels carpets trampled on and torn — Or, what's as bad> been spattered o'er with suds. Oh ! would to Heaven he had ne'er been born. The Lord's anointed temple- has beon robbed — At least my cellar has> of all its beer, By guards of honor — lionor in a horn ! Where is the honor in a Volunteer ? Hooked are my grapes — four hundred pounds or more; My trees and vines have all been broken down ; No wonder is it that I feel so sore — That I by them should have been done so brown. May furies seize the wretch that took away My sister's stockings and my pantaloons ; Accursed be the ground he treads to-day — A wonder 'tis he did not take my spoons. POENr=> AND SONGS. Two warlike steeds within my stables stood Devouring oats and gormandizing hay ; Three days I fed them on the best of food, And now the scrubs refuse for them to pay. But I will have revenge — revenge is sweet ; And I will make them dearly rue the day They ever set their feet within my house ; They'll find they'll have the very devil to pay. What care I though the people say I'm mean ; They can't say aught that I myself don't know ; I can't afford to play the host for them Whene'er they choose to have a raree-show. Unhappy's he who on a Prince doth wait, But he who waits upon their suite does worse ; A fig for loyalty ! Glackmeyer the Great Waited to put some " money in his purse." 185 VI ^ /A c^^ o: 7 7 /^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 f^^ I.I ^|Z8 50 air 1^ 2.5 2.2 2.0 18 Photographic Sciences Corporation // 1.25 1 1.4 1 1.6 ST 1111=^ Hill— ^ 6" ♦ ^^ ^ 40^ ^ <> ^. ^/^. ''4S^4^^ ;\ 23 WtST MAIN STRHT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716)873-4503 'V- mm tS6 POEMS AND SONGS. fl I i :W I I Jiliiil ,( IHll Canada \o brother Jonathan. O Jonathan my jo, Jon, . I wonder what you mean By raisin* sic a fuss, Jon — The like was never seen ; You'll hae the hale o' Europe, Jon, Upon you ere ye know, Then you'll need to haul your horns in, Dear Jonathan my jo. O Jonathan my jo, Jon, To me it's very plain You want to get fair Cuba's isle Awa frae bonnie Spain ; But gin ye try to tak' it, Jon, John Bull and wee Crapeau Will gar ye wish ye'd stayed at hame, Dear Jonathan my jo. O Jonathan my jo, Jon, You arena very blate — I'm tauld you're wantin' Canada, To mak' a braw new State — But ye can tak' my word, Jon, Wi' you we ne'er will go, As long as we respect oursel's, Dear Jonathan my jo. POEMS AND SONOS. O Jonathan my jo, Jon, (I dinna say't in scorn) But whiles I think you're unco fond O " tootin' " on your horn ; You've aye a lot of bounce, Jon, An' bluff, and bra j, and blow, But you've wasted muckle wind for nocht, Dear Jonathan my jo. Then Jonathan my jo, Jon, Tak' this advice frae me : When dogs are lyin' quiet and still, It's best to let them be — For gin they're waukened up, Jon, Their teeth they're apt to show. An' you'll find their bite waur than their bark, Dear Jonathan my jo. O Jonathan my jo, Jon, We'd like to be your friends. But this, unto a great extent. Upon yoursel' depends ; If you'll do what is richt, Jon, Then hand-in-hand we'll go, And we'll lo'e ye yet for auld lang syne, Dear Jonathan my jo. 187 M 1 88 POEMS AND SONGS. ',» St ^ 'lale of the Citg. One evening when the stars were shining, Brightly in the deep blue sky, Laura stood beside her lover, Where a brook ran murmuring by. 'Neath a tree whose leafy branches Shaded them from human sight, William pledged his troth eternal — Vowed he'd love her from that night. Long and earnestly he pleaded That she would become his bride, Telling her he fondly prized her More than all the world beside. And he said if he should ever Lightly hold the marriage vows. She might use her best endeavor To procure another spouse. Laura, who was unsuspicious, ( Maidens ever are, in sooth,) Listened to his words with pleasure. Thinking they were Gospel truth. Then she gave her hand to William, Swore she'd always true remain. POEMS AND SONGS. William pressed her to his bosom, Kissed her o'er and o'er again. Next mom he got the marriage license, That same day the knot was tied, William was a joyous bridegroom, Laura was a happy bride. But joy, alas ! won't last forever, Our path through life is sometimes thorny, William passed the night in clover, And " cleared " next day for " Califomy." Laura cried at his departure. But her grief she soon did smother. And before the week was over, She " levanted " with another, 189 Ifl 190 POEMS AND SONGS. i * I!i1 I '«|i! ©ttt (Sallant " Jire f rigabc." All honor to our " Fire Brigade," The gallant and the brave ; " Aye ready !" are they in our need— They always " run to save." By night or day they ne'er refuse To lend their willing aid, But do their duty manfully — Our gallant " Fire Brigade." No cowarri fears their hearts assail ; Their nerves are strong as steel, And often do they risk their lives For sake of others' weal. Tho' danger stares them in the face They never are afraid. But strike the lions from their path — Our gallant " Fire Brigade !" Whene'er the " dread alarm " is raised No time by them is lost ; They hurry forward to the fire. Each man is at his post. And fierce the fiery flames must be Whose progress can't be stayed When they're opposed by men like these Who form our " Fire Brigade." POEMS AND SONGS. I91 Whence come those agonizing screams At intervals between ? Look ! at yon window, thro' the smoke, A living form is seen ! " Hooks ! raise your ladders to the top, Quick ! — quick, boys ! — lend your aid !" Up, up they mount ! She's saved — she's saved ! God bless our " Fire Brigade !" 'Tis these, and daring deeds like these, Which make our Firemen loved ; In many a hard and trying scene Their courage has been proved. Green be the bays they've won, and may Their laurels never fade ! And may success still wait upon Our gallant " Fire Brigade !" < 192 POEMS A^D SONGS. m §tnxiixf}xi ,Stt0hj. " Now the 'Evens bless the PoUis Court and all its bold ver-dicts."— Thackeray. Beautiful snow ! Beautiful snow ! What a pity it is that you bother us so ; In the country 'tis gladness to see you come down, But 'tis dififerent quite when you fall in the town. If you lie on our sidewalks an inch thick or so, Then we're hauled up and fined for not shov'lling the snow. Sensible laws ! Sensible laws ! By which we are fined when there's not any cause. Our Magistrate sits like a king on his throne, Dispensing a code that's entirely his own ; What a mockery of justice they are, we all know, Especially this one with regard to the snow. Beautiful town ! Beautiful town ! Where our Mayor and Aldermen often sit down To discuss what is best for the " public weal," O'er a dish of mock turtle (at Lee*s) or green seal ; But I cannot conceive how they could blunder so, As to draft such a silly by-law about snow. Alderman Kelly ! Alderman Kelly ! May the whale that had Jonah three days in its belly Be stuffed with the members of our Corporation, If they don't try and bring about some reformation. POEMS AND SONGS. 193 I don't include you— you're straightforward, I know, And said what was right on this question of snow. Dutiful peelers ! Dutiful peelers ! Whose business it is to watch " pickers and stealers i" To quell lawless riot and keep crime in check, Is the duty of both the police and the " beak." But don't let the thieves and the burglars all go, And make a great haul out a " wee pickle " snow. Brotherly love ! Brotherly love ! My spirit with kindness and pity you move. I am glad I have learned to return good for evil, Or I'd wish the whole batch of them were at — the devil, Or in some shady spot where no warm breezes blow, Buried five fathoms deep 'neath the beautiful snow. 194 POEMS AND SONGS. Uli Winnieb. Mr. Editor, Sir,— I've been reading your paper, (I'm the person that sent you the new pair of pants), And of course you'll allow me the use of your columns : I want to discourse on your chapter of " wants." To begin with, I notice a number of " wanters :" Some want to rent houses — some houses to let ; But of one thing I'm sure, there are great numbers wanting A great many things that they never will get. Wanted three-score cabinetmakers, et cetera. To work in the factory on Bay street and York j Wanted a housemaid by Mrs. G., Duke street, Wanted a man that knows how to pack pork. 1i l\ Wanted a dozen good general servants. Good general servants 1 there is no such thing ; Our servants (more pity) have all turned our masters- Whenever they choose it they give us the fling. Wanted a cook — the Lord sends us victuals, The devil sends cooks (so I've heard sailors say) ; Too many cooks spoil the broth — that we never May want any cooks in our house, let us pray. n : POEMS AND S0N03. '95 ants), umns : » J wanting 5J isters — say); Wanted a boy to be active and useful — As well might you ask for the man in the moon To stand in the Square on some Saturday evening Beside the new bell-tower, and whistle a tune. Wanted a nurse that has got some experience — That's a libel on nurses, — whoever saw one, That had not got experience enough for a dozen ? There is nothing new to them under the sun. A gentleman wants a good bedroom with board; It is lucky for him he don't want any more ; Any person who has such a thing at disposal, Will please address Alfred, box one-forty-four. Wanted one tailor and two tailoresses ; Wanted a milliner — aye, there's the rub ; Thafs the calamity makes life a burden, Our millinery costs twice as much as our grub. Two or three joiners and carpenters wanted ; They must all be good hands and none of them green ; Wanted ten pant-makers, Sintzel & Bartman ; Two men to press cloth with a pressing machine. Wanted a stout, active boy at the straw works, He's wanted to work, not to study the law ; There's plenty of these in our city already — Beside this our lawyers are not " men of straw." Wanted a teamster, one steady and sober, He must write a fair hand, and not get on the spree \ 1 1 ) - hit ■ I W.» u- iff It I I I ( ^ 796 POEMS AND SONGS. Good references Avanted (in a horn! — that's all bunkum) Apply at the office of the Spring Brewery. A widow is wanting a good situation; (God help all the widows !) I hope she'll get one ; Jordan, to them, is a hard road to travel, Thorns grow on the pathway o'er which they must run. Wanted a railway to go the to north-west, (There's a fine chance for some one to grind a big axe ;) Wanted a bonus — a cool hundred thousand, — Lord grant us the money to pay for this tax ! Wanted, the world and his wife, for their profit. To advertise in and subscribe for the Times ; Wanted a poet more/««-gent than Wingfield, Wanted— ( We decline to insert any more of these rhymes.— Ed.) Ill i ! POEMS AND SONGS. '97 Winner of the 3-mile single-scull race, at the Buffalo Regatta, held on the 4th of July, 1872. Canadians, your glasses fill up to the brim, To night let us all be quite merry, And drink to that famed dusky oarsman so trim — Our Canadian Champion, Bob Berry. At Buffalo our honor he nobly sustained, Tho' Fortune at first was contrary ; When the race was repeated, the victory was gained By the great Prince of Scullers, Bob Berry. Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob I By that great Prince of Scullers, Bob Berry. His opponent was Coulter, who oftentimes bragged He could whip all the rest of creation ; But Bob quickly caused him to haul down his flag. In sight of the great Yankee nation ! While we honor Bob's name, let us drink to his fame In a bumper of champagne or sherry ; The laurels he won may he stoutly maintain — Hip, hurrah ! here's a health to Bob Berry ! Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob ! Our Canadian Champion, Bob Berry I 4 ■ . m P f '» ;■■■>! ■ M 198 POEMS AND SONGS. MmziUntovig. Going: One Better. "A great man's memory ir:'.y outlive hia life for half a year ; but, by Cur Lady, he'll have to build churches then."— Hamlet. A WOMAN in town, who got " spliced" to John Robb, (A turner of wood and a maker of bobbins), Was well pleased with her lord until death cut his stick, Then she went and got wed to another — called Robbins. For a while they were happy as bugs in a rug ; But he, too, '' pegged out," and this ended their fun. Few — few— were the tears that she shed on his bier, Then she married a friend of his named Robinson. They " billed " and they " cooed " for the space of a year, (Of happier couples there were very few so). Iff diedf like the others, and she's casting sheep's eyes At a lineal descendant of Robinson Crusoe. Meteorological. " Gloomy winter's noo awa'," At least 'twas thocht sae by us a'; But feth we hae been sair mista'en. For gloomy ^7inter's come again, t»OEMS AND SONGS. An' blawin' fiercely up the lake, The cauld east wind aft gars us shake. March cam' in Lion-like, wi* vigour, An' gangs oot wi' uncommon rigour, Sweet April (bashful maiden), she Stan's wi' the tear-drap in her e'e, Afeard to come and laith to stay, Till urged on by her sister May, She dights her e'en an' sings a sang, An' smiling gently comes alang. 199 Breezy, A PoEt by the name of Breeze, Whose writings are considered tefse, Is trying now to raise the wind By getting up a blast of verse — 'Tis said there's plenty of it too, And that his strains are sure to please us : They're " windy," but that's nothing new, One breeze keeps blowing other breezes. A Child's Thought. 'TwAS a beautiful thought of a litde girl, Who stood, at the evening's close, And looked at three tiny buds peeping out On a branch by a faded rose : I 200 POEMS AND SONGS. m kI' ■ l!' 1 ■ ii '' 1 :■ , v'd i I'iV " Come, Willie, and see those sweet little buds," The child to her brother cries ; " They have waken'd up just in time to kiss Their mother before she dies." Impromptu Apostrophe to Rosa D'Erina (Whilst listening to the artiste's beautiful rendition of "Kathleen, Mavourneen," and other Irish melodies.) Hail to thee, matchless Queen of Song, Worthy the mantle of fam'd Catharine Hayes ; Thy memory will be cherished long By those who've listened to thy glorious lays. Thy country's genius is enthron'd in thee, Exponent of the Green Isle's minstrelsy. I m Impromptu (While looking at the arch at Alderman Glackmeyer's residence in London, erected in honor of Prince Arthur. ) " Take down that arch, thou greedy scrub, And when the Prince next visits here, Don't charge him quite so much for grub ; Be honest if you're not sincere." Poets' Namss. > What poet is the tallest one ? Longfellow is his name. Who worked in precious metals? Goldsmith of village fame. Kathleen, isidence in POEMS AND SONGS. Wlio realized the use of words ? Why Wordsworth, to be sure. Key was permitted to unlock The muse's escruitor. And which one was a sufferer ? Paine suffered very keen ; White could not be a colored man ; There's " verdancy " in Green. Who rung the changes now and then ? Campbell, who sung of " Hope," And what one was infallible ? That grand old satirist FoJ>e. And who had the most warlike.name Of any one that's here? He who was greater than them all—r The world's Bard, Shakspeare. > 201 Which author wrote most ? — Bulwer, Warren or Dickens ? It is certain they all made great use of the pen. Bulwer's friends all maintain that he wrote " Night and Morning ;" While Warren, 'tis said, only wrote " Now and Then ;" But Dickens, than either, wrote more, I'll be bound, For 'tis very well known he wrote *' All the Year Round." 202 POEMS AHD S0N03. Jttamaje lloticcs. I IT m (On the Marriage of Mr. Joshua Filtnan to Miss ErAvaa, Matilda jvereign. East Hamboro', Feb. I2th, 1873,) FiLMAN, my boy, I give you joy In getting such a wife ; While you have her you'll never want A sovereign in your life. A virtuous woman is worth gold— With gold you can't be poor ; Your sovereign — in your case — will make Assurance doubly sure. May she be vetsed in wisdom's ways, And nevfer turn a shrew ; Nor prove her right to sovereignty By ruling over you. Love one another all you can ; By Hymen still be led ; And may your path throughout this life With sovereign gifts be spread. (Mr. T. Winkle to Miss Rachael Starr.) " Marriages are made in Heaven," (Our happiness they make or mar ;) POEMS AND SONGS. T. Winkle chose this mode of living, To get " hitched" to Rachael Starr. In the summer, in the autumn, In the winter, in the spring, May she shed refulgence round him, While he keeps a Twinkle-ing. ioi (The poet, Carroll Ryan, of the Ottawa Evening Mail, has married Miss Mclvor, a poetess, also of Ottawa. ) No DOUBT the little Ryans will Be taught to carol very sweetly ; As both the parent birds can sing. They'll fill the house with song completely. God bless the poet and his mate, i Who have been bound in Hymen's tether. And may the warblers long be spared To sing their Madrigals together. (On the Marriage of Mr. George Wright to Miss Olive Newell Wrong, by the Re". J . Schulte, rector of Port Burwell. ) Let Burwell's citizens rejoice, And let them all unite In blessing Schulte, for he is one Who turns Wrong into Wright. Thrice blessed be the happy pair. And may they find delight , In married life, and soon bring forth A little wee " Ail-Right." ll! 204 POEMS AND SONGS. (At West Flamboro', Miss Emma Wheat to Mr. Richard Bickle.) Miss Wheat got ripe for Cupid's joys, And then she fell 'neath Hymen's sickle ; I hope her path may flowery be, And ne'er be thrashed by Richard Bickle. J ": POEMS AND SONGS. 205 poetical ^thussts on fetters. " Where the sweet-scented coal oil spreads perfume around, In the city of London, resides Thomas Browne; Where, for fifteen years past, he has made his abode, Near to Adelaide street, on the Hamilton road. Not rich, yet not poor, one of earth's honest toilers, A maker of oil stills and all kinds of boilers ; This paper's for him, and I may as well state His post office box is ' E ' — one twenty-eighth 1 To THE Senate at Ottawa this letter send ; To the Acting Postmaster, Jas. Wingfield, my friend. There is no stamp upon it, there's none needs to be, For letters addressed unto Jamie gang free. ! ' \\ To Adam Brown, of Hamilton, This letter must be given ; You'll find his store upon the Gore, It's number six from seven. His office there is up one stair, Just twelve feet nearer Heaven, Where those who deal for cash will find The best of bargains given. '!»■ 306 POEMS AND SONGS. Postman, take heed, this letter speed Pacific-ward upon its journey To William Onyon, Natonia street, In San Francisco, Califomy, That moral, virtuous, pious town Where Laura Fair goes " bobbin' round." m ill |! SONGS. Jfair €an«ba. * Let others sing of sunny climes— =- Of lands beyond the sea ; There's not a dearer spot on earth Than Canada to me. Dear Canada, loved Canada ; Wherever I may be, There's not a land on all the earth Shall win my heart from thfte. Her sons will ne'er submit to crouch Beneath a tjrrant's sway ; The stag that roams her forest glades Is not more free than they. Dear Canada, loved Canada ; Wherever I may be. There's not a land on all the earth Shall win my heart from thee. The red-cross flag our fathers raised, We hail it as a friend, !f Set to music by G. F. DeVine. 208 POEMS AND SONGS. m («• i » And should that flag e'er be assailed, It's glories we'll defend. Fair Canada, brave Canada, No land on earth more free ; And his would be a coward's arm That would not strike for thee, The Scot may boast his heather hills, The Englishman his rose. And Erin's sons may love the vales Where Erin's shamrock grows. But Canada, loved Canada, Is dearer far to me ; No other land, however grand. Shall win my heart from thee. The sun that tints her maple trees With Nature's magic wand, Shines down on peaceful, happy homes, In our Canadian land. Fair Canada, loved Canada, My heart is wed to thee ; Be thou the land of noble deeds, And Empire of the free. fOEMS AND SONGS, 209 The maids of Canada are fair, And bear the palm where'er they go, And loveliest of the maidens there Are found within Ontario. But if you ask me where to find The sweetest, dearest, fairest one— The paragon of womankind — Her dwelling place is Hamilton. The lovely maid of Hamilton, The charming maid of Hamilton ; Young Alice Dean is beauty's queen. And reigns supreme in Hamilton. Grace sits enthroned upon her brow, And rosy health blooms in her cheeks, Her voice is sweet, and soft, and low, And sounds like music when she speaks. The lilies of the field are fair And beautiful to look upon, But fairer than the lilies are, Is Alice Dean of Hamilton. The lovely maid of Hamilton, The charming maid of Hamilton ; Young Alice Dean is beauty's queen. And reigns supreme in Hamilton. k m I- a 10 POEMS AND SONGS. Her heart untainted is by guile — From pride and vanity she's free ; A perfect heaven is in her smile, Her eye beams bright with modesty ; Her's is a pure unsullied mind — If earth has angels she is one, For all the graces are combined In Alice Dean of Hamilton. The lovely maid of Hamilton, The charming maid of Hamilton ; Young Alice Dean is beauty's queen, And reigns supreme in Hamilton, 1 POEMS ASD SONGS. an ^ht Mtc \)d ^iimmie. Air — " Antiie Zautic.'* I HAE a wee pet lammie — O' simmers she's seen three, The picture o' her mammie, An' she's unco dear to me. She is unco dear to me, She's a blythe wee cuddUn' doo. An' the humming-bird wi' pleasure Micht pree her rosy mou'. Like laverocks when they're singin' Up in the lift sae blue, Her merry voice is ringin' Wi' joy the hale day thro'. Wi' joy the hale day thro', She fills the house wi' glee ; An' the wee, wee laugh in* fairy Is a treasure aye to me. She rins aboot the yardie, An' pu's the bits o' flow'rs As happy as a birdie Amang the simmer bow'rs. Amang the simmer bow'rs, When blossoms deck ilk tree ; 212 11 lif ^ POEMS AND SONGS. But there's ne'er a flow'r amang them That fairer is than she. Her hair's like gowden nettin', When wavin' in the win'; A gem o' nature's settin' Is the dimple on her chin. Is the dimple on her chin, She's the apple o' my e'e, An' whate'er she is to ithers, She's a warld o' joy to me. ,T. I ■ ! POEMS AND SONGS. 213 ^thol'0 §onmt (Icrn. Air—" Moray's Faery Glen." On Athol Bank the flowers bloom gay, And fresh and bright and fair ; But Phillis is the sweetest flower That sheds its blossom there. The " modest daisy, crimson-tipp'd," When morning opes its e'e, Looks round on nothing half so sweet Nor half so fair as she. And oh ! may Heaven shield that flower, And guard its parent stem, And all its choicest blessings shower On Athol's Bonnie Gem. The robin trills its sweetest song, When Phillis passes by; The rose with envy droops its head When Phillis cometh nigh ; And Phoebus shines on Athol Bank And tints the flow'rets fair ; But Phillis is the sweetest flower That buds and blossoms there. And oh ! may Heaven shield that flower, And guard its parent stem, And all its choicest blessings shower On Athol's Bonnie Gem. f I II J I, I I'OKMS ANI» soNt;s. I \ I'll .Aur br aTiuc Ici '^l\ec. \o\'Nii M;rulo, \',\v luM- ronsont I won. Hut woci 1 tuiiul ;io siinuuiv i\i« III. When M;<}\,i;ie !';»i*l <«> »"' " U;\o hero's luy h;Mul. un he;iit's y«>ur ail), " V\\ aye be Hue to thee," \\c\ hinnye«.l wouls tell on my ear .\s soft as uuulen's prayer ; I cli\si>etl her to my heart and vowxhI To love her evermair. She blushed awhile ami hung her head. .\nd whispering, said to me— '• Veve lov'd me lang, I've proved ye weel : " .\nd I'll be true to thee." But mony years hae passed sinee then, And years o bliss they've been ; The rose still blooms upon her eheek, And love lights up her een ; And mem'ry aye brings baek the nieht When Maggie said to me— " Hae here's my hand, my heart's your ain, •• ril nve be true to thee." I'OKM.'i AND r;()N(»«. a'5 AlK — *' Thtrt'x mte worn Jot hm." ''['was ju»t about the gluamiii' hour VVljcii fcaiiic f,;ucl 220 POEMS AND SONGS. Noo, ilka ane that lo'es his wife will prize her virtues high ; For me I dinna wonder that he lauds her to the sky. Ilk ane thinks aye their ain the best, and that's just sae wi' me, For I wudna gi'e my ain guid wife for a' the wives I see. No, for a' the wives I see, No, for a' the wives I see, I wudna gi'e my ain wee wife for a' the wives I see. h ■ill POEMS AND SONGS. SIX Johnnie SBangh.* Air—" Laird a' Cockpen. " An auld farrant bodie is wee Johnnie Waugh ; A kenspeckle bodie is auld Johnnie Waugh ; There's no muckle o' him — in stature he's sma' — But he's warsled thro' Hfe for three-score years an' twa. He's hale an' he's hearty, he's blythe an' he's free, An' for an auld man he's as brisk as a bee \ To Kirk upon Sunday he gangs aye fu' braw — There's nane mair respecket than auld Johnnie Waugh. If things whiles gang gleyd or a wee bit ajee, Johnnie just gies a lauch, says, " Its a' ane to me." He cares na a preen for the great nor the sma' — Straughtforward an' honest is auld Johnnie Waugh. Tho' his form's a wee bent an' his locks hae turned white, In guid, social freen'ship he still tak's delight ; He believes that " mankind should be brethren a' ; " The king o' guid fellows is auld Johnnie Waugh. His wifie an' he are as cantic an' couth As they were when at first they foregathered in youth. ♦ A " Scots worthy," an old and respected resident of Hamilton, and one of the original founders of the Central Presbyterian Church of that city. { . n 332 POEMS ANP SONGS. Ye may search the hale kintra — ye wiiina find twa Mair loving than Mary an* auld Johnnie Waugh. May peace in their dwellin' continue to reign ; L?ng may they be spared amang freen's to remain ; An' may grim misfortune ne'er lay his black paw On the pow o' my worthy auld freend, Johnnie Waugh. '• if in ii! POEMS AND SONGS. 223 'Ihc llcil's got in the 'giXBecs, (D. Air — " Cmv/ Crow the Rashes, O " Chorus — The deil's got in the lasses, O ! The deil's got in the lasses, O I Ilk month or twa Dame Fashion's law. Aye mak's them unco fashions, O ! Our women-folk are a' gaun daft Wi' whims an' whigmaleeries, O ; Their heids are filled sae fu' o' dress They're spinnin' roun' like peeries, O. The deil's got in, &c. Their mithers used to be content Wi' claes o' their ain spinnin', O ; Their dochters now maun be arrayed In purple an' fine linen, O. The deil's got in, &c. Wi' chignons, wheels, an' waterfa's, To mak' them braw and bonnie, O, They never think to get them a' It costs a mint o' money, O. The deil's got in, &c. Wi' feathers wavin' richt and left. An' streamers gay and gaudy, O, I « ! ,- p; !' . I; 'ifen f I f n a 24 POEMS AND SONGb. To kirk or market now they gang As grand as ony leddy, O. The deil's got in, &c, Wi' bonnets just like spider's webs That hang round some auld pillar, O, They're unco sma', but yet for a', They cost a heap o' siller, O. The deil's got in, &c. But things will hae to tak' a change. Or else it's my opinion, O, Auld maids will soon be found in scores Throughout the hale Dominion, O. The deil's got in, &c. Sac, lasses, mind what ye're aboot, If ye intend to marry, O ; Gae owre your glaikit ways in dress, Or ye maun single tarry, O. The deil's got in, &c. Is POEMS AND SONGS. »»5 Jl Win 3xi\\>\ixc o't. Whilk we sit here to-night we'll be merry and free, And as Time passes by still contented we'll be ; Let the cares of this world for the present be forgot, While we're a* met together o'er a wee drappie o't. Chorus — A wee drapi)ie o't, &:c. In our journey through life wc must all play our jiarts, Then let Love, Truth and Friendship remain in our hearts ; Let us kindly help each other for to bear our chc(iucred lot, And at times, when we are happy, hae a wee drappie o't. Chorus — A wee drappie o't, I'tc. Success then to Canada, and honor'd may she be, May her fame be extended by land and by sea \ May her commerce thrive and flourish till it's found in ilka spot ; May we aye hac j)ea( c and plenty, and a wee drai)pie o't. Chorus — A wee drajipie o't, &:c. A bumper to Hamilton, we'll pledge her to-night, May her sons still '* Advance " in the cause of Truth and Right ', Here's to a* her bonnie lassies, and may heaven bless their lot, And send them a' guid husbands, and a wee drappie o't. Chorus — A wee drappie o't, &c. \ 226 POEMS AND SONGS. m I- it i i il ! A TRUE " Glasco chappie " is Watty Muirhead ; He's hearty an' happy is Watty Muirhead ; There's nac better butcher ere killed a beast deid Than the ane that I sing o', that's Watty MuirheaJ. He's up at his wark ere the sun shows its face — To rowe up his sleeves he ne'er thinks a disgrace ; He waits on his customers a' day wi' speed, Baith rich folk an' puir folk like Watty Muirhead, On Sundays ye'll whiles hear him singing the psalms, On Mondays he's makin' minced collops or hams ; If he gies you his word it's as guid as his aith — Far mair sac than some that gangs roun' in braid claith ; Throughout the hale kintra he's kent far an' near As a man that is honest, upright an' sincere ; If you want a true friend that will help you in need, There's nae better fellow than Watty Muirhead. He's no very rich, an' he's no very puir — " Contented wi' little and happy wi' mair ;" Tho' he prizes life's comforts, he's no gien to greed. But social an' kindly is Watty Muirhead. May his joys a' be doubled, his cares flee awa', An' still gain respect frae the great an' the sma'. An' lang may it be ere Death nicks his life's thread, Or tak's frae amang us ouf Watty Muirhead. POEMS AND SONGS. 227 ^O0a. icar. A SOUTHERN DITTY. Ah, Rosa, if you only knew The love I bear for you, I do not think that you would ask If Loui still is true ; For hard had been my fate if love Had not dispelled the gloom, And kept my heart with joys elate, And dreams of days to come. Then do not ask me, Rosa, dear, If Loui still be true. For not a pulse within his heart But beats and throbs for you. You mind when we were very young. On Master Green's estate, How hard I toiled that you might rest In noon-day's scorching heat ; And when our daily task was done, And all the field was clear, Did I not linger still behind To woo my Rosa, dear ? Then do not ask me, Rosa, dear, If Loui still is true. For not a pulse within his heart But beats and throbs for you. 338 POEMS AND SONGS, r' But now the curse of slavery's o'er, And freedom's goal is won, Will Rosa join her fate to one Whose heart is all her own ? For well I know you will be true. As Loui still hath been ; O, if the world were all mine own, My Rosa would be Queen. Then do not ask me, Rosa, dear. If Loui still is true, For not a pulse within his heart But beats and throbs for you. • i POEMS AND SONGS. 239 'iEhe Calebouian, Air— " The En^Ushmau. " There's a land where the heather and thistle wave Where the foot of a slave ne'er trod, Where the blue bells bloom o'er her martyrs' grave, And hallov/ed is that sod. There's a land whose sons are staunch and brave, Whose mountains are lofty and grand. Whose shores are kissed by the blue sea wave, And Scotia is that land. 'Tis an honored place that same proud land, The home of the Caledonian. There's a land whose bards have struck their lyres To none but the loftiest strains ; Whose inspiring tones would call forth fire From the dullest coward's veins. There's a land where noble Wallace fell, The first in freedom's van. Whose name still sounds like a magic spell — And Scotia is that land. 'Tis teeming with heroes that mountain land, The home of the Caledonian. All other lands the palm must yield To Scotia's daughters fair ; * J«" 230 POEMS AND SONGS. And in the tented battle-field Her sons are foremost there. Her tartan-plaided warriors Have climbed the steeps of fame ; Their daring deeds the wide world o'er Have earned a deathless name. Tis a nation of heroes — deny it who can- The home o( the Caledonian. The Scotsman need not blush to own The land that gave him birth, For her name is known from zone to zone As the noblest spot on earth. Should the foot of a foe e'er dare to tread On that little land of the free, The thistle would raise his stately head, Saying, " Vou ?nauna meddle tvi' me." It's a sturdy plant that guards our land, The pride of the Caledonian. POEMS AND SONGS. 231 ^he ^liivtccuth is Ixcaiij. RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE I3TH BATTALION, HAMILTON. Air — •' Marc/i of the Cameron Men." The Thirteenth is ready, whene'er duty calls, To fight like their fathers of yore ; Though danger may threaten it never appab The brave and the loyal of Gore. 1 hear their bugles sounding, sounding, Loud by Ontario's shore, And the tramp of their footsteps is heard thro' the vale, 'Tis the march of the heroes of Gore. The heart of a patriot beats in each breast As proudly they march to the field ; They have sworn to fight for their country and Queen, They may die, but they never will yield ! I hear their bugles sounding, sounding, &c. To the front was the war-cry that pealed thro' the land. When the Fenians invaded our shore ; And Semper Parattis^ was answered by all Of the brave and the loyal of Gore. I hear their bugles sounding, sounding, &c. ''The motto of the Batt.ilion. if 11(1 332 POEMS AND SONGS. llobctt Ipuvno. Atr — " IVili he no come back again ? " ■ '''- m f ^3 B' Wha o' Robin has nae heard, He wha Scotsmen loe sae weel, Honor'd aye be Scotia's bard — Robin was a clever chiel. Dear's his fame to us, ye ken. Dear's his fame to us, ye ken, Scotia's muse by hill an' glen Sings his praises o'er again. Genius shone within his e'e. Manliness upon his broo ; Ithers may hae sung as sweet, Nane to Nature sang sae true. Dear's his fame to us, ye ken, etc. Open was his heart an' han', Poortith found in him a frien' Wha like Robin e'er could ban, A' things that were fause an' mean. Dear's his fame to us, ye ken, etc. I i POEMS A^D SOXOS. A\'orth was a}-e what maist he priced, Honesty he made liis theme, Gowd an' tinsel he despised If nae merit came wi' them. Dear's his fame to us, ye ken, etc. A' the World has owned his worth— Nane his thrawart fate but mourns— Proud's the wee land in the North, ()' her minstrel, Robert Burus. Dear's liis fame to us, ye ken, etc, 233 i! 234 POEMS AND SONGS. Jl ^ong for ^St. JVubreto'e iafi. How's a' wi' you the nicht, my frien's, I'm glad to see you here, The gatherin' o' the clans, ye ken, Takes place but ance a year. Shame fa' the Scot, where'er he be. That wadna homage pay To Scotland and her patron saint, Upon his natal day. Upon tbis nicht, wi' fond delicht, The memory aften turns To thochts that hae been waukened up By Tannahill and Burns ; While listening to their hamely lays, They aye bring back to min*, The heather hills, and mountain rills, And days o' auld lang syne. Our auld respectit mither aft Looks o'er wi' wistfu' een, Across the wide Atlantic, to Where Canada is seen. She's unco proud o' a' her sons, That walk in honor's way, And likes to hear their deeds rehears'd. Upon St. Andrew's Day. POEMS AND SONGS. 235 O, Scotia ! land o' honest men, And lassies leal and true, Though wanderers from thy shore, our hearts Will aye return to you. We'll ne'er forget the land o' cakes Where'er we chance to gae, But meet and sing its praises aye, Upon St. Andrew's Day. 236 I'OEMS AND SON'GS. It', h •' 1^ |i'i 1! & I;- ;ii ( Respectfully dedicated to the President and Members of the Thistle Curling Club, Hamilton, Ont.) Now, Hamilton, baud up your heid ; Your bairns may crousley craw ; Ai playing o* the channel stane, Your callants ding them a'. The Thistle Club o' Hamilton Hae won a glorious name ; Whaure'er they be, they bear tiie gree, At Scotia's *' roaring game." Auld Scotia's roaring game, Auld Scotia's roaring game ; •' The channel stane on icy plain " Is Scotia's roaring game. Their " skips " are clever chiels, I trow, And brawly do they ken The >vay to lay a "pat-lid" doon Or lift it aff again. Wi' anxious e'e they scan the " tee, " Like Generals o' fame, When, broom in han', they take their stan' At Scotia's " roaring game." Kind-hearted fellows are they a', And fu' o' fun and glee ; POEMS AND S0N03. A blither set than they ne'er met To play around a ** tec," To gcn'rous hospitality They also can lay claim ; They've aye a friendly grip for a' At Scotia's "roaring game." Lang may they live to throw a stano, And triumph o'er their foes ; And, victors, dine on '• beef and greens," And pree their " Athole brosc." May Hamilton still foremost be Upon the scroll o' fame ; And may her curlers bear the gree At Scotia's " roaring game," 237 238 POEMS AND SONGS. I I • I I I I, THE SCOTTISjr CI/AMPION ATHI.r.TF. Donald Dinnie's comin' here, Donald Dinnie's comin' here ; Spread the news baith far and near, 'I'hat Donald Dinnie's comin' here. Donald's no like " Heather Jock," He has come o' decent folk ; In his kilts he looks sac braw, He'll be a credit to us a' ; Donr.'.d though he's big and stoot, He's nae awkward, ill-faur'd loot ; In manners he is frank and free, A brawny, bold athelete is he. . Donald Dinnie's comin' here, Donald Dinnie's comin' here ; Tell the news baith far and near, That Donald Dinnie's comin' here. Donald he's a clever chiel, Can toss the caber like the deil : At throwin' o' the muckle stane, He bears the gree whaure'er he's gane : In ilka thing he tak's in han', He far surpasses ony man — POEMS AND SONGS. 239 A perfect " Crichton " in his ways, In a' he does an' a' he says. Donald Dinnic's comin' here, Donald Dinnie's comin' here ; Tell the news baith far and near. That Donald Dinnie's comin' here. Ye wha lo'e the land o' cakes, Welcome Donald for its sake ; Show him by your presence here That you prize the Thistle dear : When you hear the piper blaw, Gather round him ane an' a' ; Wi' a hearty, rousing cheer, Welcome Donald Dinnie here. Donald Dinnie's comin" here, Donald Dinnie's comin here ; Tell the news baith far and near, That Donald Dinnie's comin' here. 240 POEMS AND SONGS. *.i: 'Ihe ^iiivt) o' the "^ Found the " Peeler " still glued lo Ins post ; He told them this yarn I have been telling )cu - And that's ihe last news from the Ghost ! * #■ ^- "■ 254 POEMS AND SONGS. I ^bberti&e. 'A man's businesn increases in ratio according to the amount of advertising that he does " Horace Gretlty. Let dogs delight to bark and bite, Let statesmen tell us wrong is right, Let lawyer loons swear black is white— As sometimes they will do, — And "local editors" get light, l*'or 'lis their nature too. Let poets when they're making rhyiije. Rush from ridiculous to sublime ; Let railroad trains be run on time, (Something not always done), And maidens marry in their prime (Say wlien they're twenty-one.) Let those whose hearts arc filled with fears, Retire to more congenial spheres, And leave us in this " vale of tears " To toil and work away, Rejoicing that the coming years Will bring " nine hours a day." Let paisons preach and scribblers scrawl,— The world is wide, there's room for all ; % ;^ .V POEMS AND SONGS. Let justice — at the City Hall — Unerringly be done ; Yea, even though the heavens fall On this our Hamilton. Let those who wealth and power would find, No longer try to ** go it blind ;" Or in the race they'll lag behind And lose the wished for prize ; Unless they always bear in mind, Their " Biz " to Advertise. 'J'hat man will be held up to scorn By generations yet unborn, Who does not daily " blow his horn " 'I'hroughout the Public Press. Burns said that " man was made to mourn." It is not so, I guess. If man had only sense to sec, The true road to prosperity, Then printer's ink would flow more free. And each and every one Would flourish like a green bay tree That's basking in the sun. The moral of all this is plain — That he who is not quite insane, In idleness will not remain While goods lie on his shelf ; But Advertise, then wealth he'll gain ;~ Vou kno7u how it is yourself. «S5 m. m ^ ■¥■ t-i ..