AMEWITH 
 
 rt 
 
 in 
 o 
 
 Mil 
 
 d 
 

 5U 
 
 ex: llbris 
 EiLtliEKin£KFl5h^ 
 
 r 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Professor 
 
 H» Roy W. Smith 
 
'<r-<5 
 
 
 CM. (8(^4. -i74&. 
 
HAMEWITH 
 

Here on the Rand we freely grant 
 We'' re blest tut' sunny weather; 
 Fae cauld aii' snaw ice^re weel awa\ 
 But man^ we miss the heather. 
 
 fOHANXESBURG^ S.A. 
 
 Illustrated Edition first published iqi-j 
 Rt printed 1020 
 
 GIFT 
 

 TO MY WIFE 
 
 250 
 
NOTE 
 
 Some of these verses appeared originally in 
 ' The Scots Observer,' ' The Natio?ial Ob- 
 serve?;'' ^ Black and White' ' The Otcilook,' 
 * The spectator,' ' Chambers' Journal,* and 
 other papers J and a number of them were 
 published in volume fori)i in 1900 by Messrs. 
 D. Wyllie and Son, Aberdeen. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION . 
 
 
 
 
 xiii 
 
 HAMEWITH 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 THE ALIEN 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 THE WHISTLE . . . . 
 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 SKEELY KIRSTY . 
 
 
 
 
 I T 
 
 THE ANTIQUARY . 
 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 JEAMES .... 
 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 THE MILLER 
 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 THE MILLER EXPLAINS . 
 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 THE PACKMAN . . . . 
 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 THE LETTERGAE . 
 
 
 
 
 33 
 
 MARGARET DODS 
 
 
 
 
 • 36 
 
 THE BACK O' BEYONT IS DRV 
 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 A GREEN YULE . 
 
 
 
 
 41 
 
 HAME .... 
 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 SPRING IN THE HOWE O' ALFOKD 
 
 
 
 
 52 
 
 THE HINT O' HAlRSr 
 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 WINTER .... 
 
 
 
 
 57 
 
 R. L. S. . 
 
 
 
 
 63 
 
 burns' CENTENARY 
 
 
 
 
 6s 
 
 FAME .... 
 
 
 
 
 . 67 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE AE REWARD 
 
 
 
 70 
 
 *MV lord' 
 
 
 
 72 
 
 IN THE GLOAMIN' 
 
 
 
 75 
 
 THE MAID O' THE MILL . 
 
 
 
 77 
 
 THE WITCH O' THE GOLDEN HAIR 
 
 
 
 . 78 
 
 ARLES .... 
 
 
 
 81 
 
 WHERE LOVE WAS NANE 
 
 
 
 83 
 
 THE DEIL an' THE DEEVILOCK . 
 
 
 
 84 
 
 A BACKCAST 
 
 
 
 89 
 
 THE LAWIn' 
 
 
 
 90 
 
 THE GYPSY 
 
 
 
 92 
 
 'bydand' 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 THE outlaw's lass 
 
 
 
 99 
 
 Charon's song . 
 
 
 
 lOI 
 
 VIRGIL IN SCOTS 
 
 
 
 103 
 
 HORACE IN SCOTS. CAR. I. I I 
 
 
 
 107 
 
 » » „ I- 38 
 
 
 
 109 
 
 „ „ „ II. 10 
 
 
 
 no 
 
 „ ,. „ III. 9 
 
 
 
 "3 
 
 M ,, „ "I- 15 
 
 
 
 116 
 
 „ „ „ III. 26 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 ,, ,, KPOD. II. 
 
 
 
 119 
 
 THE REMONSTRANCE 
 
 
 
 124 
 
 THE REPLY 
 
 
 
 127 
 
 SCOTLAND OUR MITHER . 
 
 
 
 129 
 
 GLOSSARY . . . . 
 
 
 
 ^33 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Title-page 
 
 I want to have a clean fish on . . t 
 
 Distant Benachie ..... 
 
 From the muckle rodden-tree ... 
 
 He puffed his freckled cheeks until his nose sank oot o' sicht 
 
 He got ream an' buttered bannocks for the lovin' lilt he played 
 
 The maister brunt the whistle that the wee herd made 
 
 Her gift o' greetin' .... 
 
 A little mannie, nae ower five feet three 
 
 Ower him there her anger brak' 
 
 Consider my drooth .... 
 
 He humpit roon' the country side to clachan, craft an' ha' 
 
 He never spoiled a story by consid'rin' gin 'twas true 
 
 When the bank set up a branch 
 
 It was gran' 
 To see him work the waster laft 
 
 Drinkin' toddy there .... 
 
 He has a tune for ilka psalm 
 
 2 
 4 
 5 
 7 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 12 
 
 14 
 19 
 23 
 24 
 27 
 29 
 
 30 
 32 
 33 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The clachan's latest joke 
 
 Till they tittit the tow 
 
 In the cauld, weet, clorty clay 
 
 Young to hae sae muckle 
 
 I ken weel its weary jow . 
 
 This is the only fauld 
 
 A wee, wee glen in the Hielan's 
 
 I wander on o'er the desert lone 
 
 The whip-the-cat's afif fae hoose to hoose 
 
 Keepin' tryst wi' a neebour's lass 
 
 Sleety winds that rive an' whirl . 
 
 'Kissin' time' .... 
 
 Some sober country dance trips thro' 
 Wi' Jock the herd 
 
 Across the faem .... 
 
 ' My fame is sure ; when I am dead 
 A century,' the Poet said 
 
 I saw a truant schoolboy chalk his name 
 
 Near aneuch to grip her skirts at last 
 
 Ruler ower the Council Board 
 
 Ance a Provost, aye 'My Lord' . 
 
 The Witch o' the Golden Hair . 
 
 An' 1 slip awa' to the break 
 
 34 
 38 
 42 
 
 43 
 46 
 
 47 
 49 
 SO 
 52 
 56 
 57 
 60 
 
 62 
 63 
 
 65 
 
 67 
 69 
 72 
 
 73 
 78 
 82 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The brimstane reek wi' an upward spew- 
 Swirled roon' baith the Deil an' the Deevilock 
 
 'An' we are mair sib than ye think,' quo' he 
 
 O, her een were bright, an' her teeth were white 
 
 By my leefu' lane I sit morn an' e'en 
 
 Light, light is the backward pull 
 
 Hae sense an' set the greybeard oot 
 
 The' lang the pig gangs to the well, 
 It's ae day's set . 
 
 I 'd love an' live an' dee wi' you . 
 
 Sandy's wrunkled kimmer 
 
 On his plaid amang the braes to lie 
 
 The nicht he 's castin' his accoonts again 
 
 Noo man, hoo can ye think it richt 
 
 Your sons richt kindly, auld wife, send hame their love to you 
 
 XI 
 
 PAGE 
 85 
 
 94 
 96 
 
 98 
 
 lOI 
 
 107 
 
 III 
 114 
 117 
 119 
 122 
 125 
 131 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Whence arose the popular belief that some persons impart 
 luck to the books of other persons ? The answer, if it were 
 not a question of books but of other projectiles, would be 
 (in savage society) that one man has more may a or wakan 
 or orenda than another ; has more of a subtle, imponder- 
 able, potent, innermost, all-pervading something than 
 another, and that he can communicate this gift, by luck 
 or otherwise, to others. Thus in Rutuya a medicine man 
 communicated his maya to Colonel Gudgeon, to Lieu- 
 tenant Grant, and other gentlemen, who then walked bare- 
 foot but unsinged over a floor of red-hot stones. Obvi- 
 ously our civilized faith in prefaces by other hands than the 
 author's (usually the better man), is part of the orenda or 
 maya superstition or belief. 
 
 Were I conscious of possessing maya or luck, I would 
 gladly impart it to all men, if all men were equally virtuous, 
 like the teacher of the art of flying in Rasselas, by Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson. But I am so far from being conscious of 
 possessing maya that I only wish, if there be indeed a 
 quantity of this transcendental ether, that some one who 
 had plenty of it would write introductions for my books, 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 which stand greatly in need of a supernormal * send off.* 
 Still they are not in quite such evil case as they would be 
 were I a poet, for many a man and most women most 
 justly disesteem their own capacity for reading verses. 
 Indeed that art is now almost lost, and it is strange to 
 think that there are probably to-day more persons who 
 write verse than who read it. Poetry, like Christmas cards, 
 is bought, not to keep, but to give away at Christmas, on 
 birthdays, and, by economical friends of the bride, at 
 weddings. There is always plenty of poetry in small 
 volumes, in flabby leather covers, among the array of 
 wedding presents. This offering is a survival : the idea 
 of love is still connected with the writings of Tennyson 
 and Browning, though experience tells us that the poetry- 
 reading days of the pair end at the altar. 
 
 The child of an earlier generation, I was capable of read- 
 ing verses in my youth, and even now can do so, retaining 
 at least that faculty of a dead world, just as the last Pict 
 held the secret of * brewing the ale from the heather bell.' 
 Mr. Charles Murray's ale (which is excellent) is all brewed 
 from the heather bell, is pure Scots ; and he sings the songs 
 of our national Zion on * a distant and a deadly shore,' that 
 of the Transvaal — though this is a mere figure of speech, 
 the Transvaal, like Bohemia, possessing at present no sea- 
 coast. 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 To the patriotic Scot there is somewhat affecting in the 
 echoes of very rich Scots which reach us across the African 
 continent and ' seas that row between.' To speak for 
 myself, I am never so happy as when I cross the Tweed at 
 Berwick from the South, or go on the hnks at Wimbledon 
 Common, and hear the accents (for there are several, in- 
 cluding that peculiar to Gourock) of my native tongue. 
 These observes are quite genuine, and come from a Scot 
 whose critics in England banter him on his patriotism, 
 while his critics in Scotland revile him as rather more un- 
 patriotic than the infamous Sir John Menteith, who 
 whummled the bannock. The Scots of Mr. Murray is so 
 pure and so rich that it may puzzle some patriots whose 
 sentiments are stronger than their linguistic acquirements. 
 The imitations of Horace are among the best extant, and 
 Mr. Murray might take Professor Blackie's advice, trying 
 how far the most rustic idylls of Theocritus, say the 
 
 * Oaristus,' can be converted into the Doric of the Low- 
 lands. If one may have favourites, among these is ' The 
 Packman,* ' The Howe of Alford,' ' The Hint o' Hairst,' 
 
 * The Antiquary,' and ' The Lettergae.' Does any Lettergae 
 survive in this age of guilt when the harmonium pervades 
 the kirks which our fathers purified from the Romish 
 organ ? Indeed, the poems beget a certain melancholy. 
 ' I am never merry when I hear sweet music ' from a world 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION 
 
 that is dead or dying, the world of Scott and Hogg, the 
 world that knew not polluted streams, and railways, and 
 motor cars, and, worst of abominations, the gramophone. 
 In a far-off land Mr. Murray retains the sentiment of 
 that forgotten time, and is haunted by the scent of peat 
 and bog myrtle, the sound of old words that now are strange, 
 the poverty that was not the mate of discontent. Enfin 
 he has the secret of the last of the Picts, if indeed he was 
 the last, if they do not dwell with ' The Secret Common- 
 wealth of Elves, Fauns, and Fairies ' in the secret places 
 of the hills. Poetry more truly Scots than that of Mr. 
 Murray is no longer written — was not written even by 
 Mr. Stevenson, about ' a' the bonny U.P. Kirks,' for 
 in his verses there was a faint twinkle of the spirit of 
 mockery. 
 
 Andrew Lang. 
 
HAMEWITH 
 
 Hot youth ever is a ranger, 
 
 New scenes ever its desire ; 
 Cauld Eild, doubtfu' o' the stranger, 
 
 Thinks but o' haudin' in the fire. 
 
 Midway, the wanderer is weary, 
 Fain he 'd be turnin* in his prime 
 
 Hamewith — the road that 's never dreary. 
 Back where his heart is a' the time. 
 

 
 ^^, ^^/^/^ 
 
 THE ALIEN 
 
 In Afric's fabled fountains I have panned the golden sand — 
 
 Caught crocodile with baviaan for bait — 
 I 've fished, with blasting gelatine for hook an' gaff an' wand, 
 
 An' lured the bearded barbel to his fate : 
 But take your Southern rivers that meander to the sea, 
 
 And set me where the Leochel joins the Don, 
 With eighteen feet of greenheart an' the tackle running free — 
 I want to have a clean fish on. 
 
THE ALIEN 3 
 
 The eland an' the tsessebe I 've tracked from early dawn, 
 
 I *ve heard the roar of lions shake the night, 
 I 've fed the lonely bush-veld camp on dik-kop an' korhaan. 
 
 An' watched the soaring vulture in his flight ; 
 For horn an' head I 've hunted, yet the spoil of gun and 
 spear. 
 My trophies, I would freely give them all, 
 To creep through mist an' heather on the great red deer — 
 / want to hear the black cock call. 
 
 In hot December weather when the grass is caddie high 
 
 I 've driven clean an' lost the ball an' game. 
 When winter veld is burned an' bare I 've cursed the cuppy 
 he— 
 The language is the one thing still the same ; 
 For dongas, rocks, an' scuffled greens give me the links up 
 North, 
 The whins, the broom, the thunder of the surf. 
 The three old fellows waiting where I used to make a 
 fourth — 
 
 I want to play a round on turf. 
 
 I 've faced the fremt, its strain an' toil, in market an' in 
 mine, 
 Seen Fortune ebb an' flow between the ' Chains,' 
 
4 THE ALIEN 
 
 Sat late o*er starlit banquets where the danger spiced the 
 wine, 
 But bitter are the lees the alien drains ; 
 For all the time the heather blooms on distant Benachie, 
 
 An' wrapt in peace the sheltered valley lies, 
 I want to wade through bracken in a glen across the sea — 
 / want to see the peat reek rise. 
 
 
Vfom ^/vE. mucKIt foiitn ■'Kct, 
 
 THE WHISTLE 
 
 He cut a sappy sucker from the muckle rodden-tree, 
 
 He trimmed it, an' he wet it, an' he thumped it on his 
 
 knee ; 
 He never heard the teuchat when the harrow broke her 
 
 eggs, 
 He missed the craggit heron nabbin' puddocks in the 
 
 seggs, 
 He forgot to hound the colHe at the cattle when they 
 
 strayed, 
 But you should hae seen the whistle that the wee herd 
 
 made ! 
 
6 THE WHISTLE 
 
 He wheepled on 't at mornin' an' he tweetled on 't at nicht, 
 He puffed his freckled cheeks until his nose sank oot o' sicht, 
 The kye were late for milkin' when he piped them up the 
 
 closs, 
 The kitlins got his supper syne, an' he was beddit boss ; 
 But he cared na doit nor docken what they did or thocht 
 
 or said, 
 There was comfort in the whistle that the wee herd made. 
 
 For lyin' lang o' mornin's he had clawed the caup for weeks, 
 But noo he had his bonnet on afore the lave had breeks : 
 He was whistlin' to the porridge that were hott'rin' on the 
 
 fire. 
 He was whistlin' ower the travise to the baillie in the byre ; 
 Nae a blackbird nor a mavis, that hae pipin' for their trade, 
 Was a marrow for the whistle that the wee herd made. 
 
 He played a march to battle, it cam' dirlin' through the 
 
 mist. 
 Till the halflin' squared his shou'ders an' made up his mind 
 
 to 'hst ; 
 He tried a spring for wooers, though he wistna what it 
 
 meant, 
 But the kitchen-lass was lauchin' an' he thocht she maybe 
 
 kent ; 
 

 Uk\Vii Ais noS£ i^nk xJdi" o' S/cKt"" 
 
8 
 
 THE WHISTLE 
 
 He got ream an* buttered bannocks for the lovln* lilt he 
 
 played. 
 Wasna that a cheery whistle that the wee herd made ? 
 
 
 He blew them rants sae lively, schottisches, reels, an' jigs, 
 The foalie flang his muckle legs an' capered ower the rigs, 
 
THE WHISTLE 9 
 
 The grey-tailed futt'rat bobbit oot to hear his ain strath- 
 spey, 
 
 The bawd cam' loupin* through the corn to * Clean Pease 
 Strae ' ; 
 
 The feet o' ilka man an' beast gat youkie when he 
 played — 
 
 Hae ye ever heard o' whistle like the wee herd made ? 
 
 
10 THE WHISTLE 
 
 But the snaw it stopped the herdin' an' the winter brocht 
 
 him dool, 
 When in spite o' hacks an' chilblains he was shod again for 
 
 school ; 
 He couldna sough the catechis nor pipe the rule o' three, 
 He was keepit in an' lickit when the ither loons got free ; 
 But he aften played the truant — 'twas the only thing he 
 
 played, 
 For the maister brunt the whistle that the wee herd made ! 
 
SKEELY KIRSTY 
 
 A STANE-CAST fae the clachan heid 
 
 An auld feal dyke enclosed a reed 
 
 O' garden grun', where flower an' weed 
 
 In spring grew first aye ; 
 An' there the humble hauddin* steed 
 
 O' Skeely Kirsty. 
 
 Upon the easin' sods a fou 
 Thick-leaved an' sappy yearly grew, 
 Which, for a scrat or scabbit mou', 
 
 Beat aught in ' Buchan ' ; 
 An* draughts fae herbs she used to brew 
 
 That drank like brochan. 
 
 To heal a heid, or scob a bane, 
 To ease a neebour's grippit wean, 
 Or thoom a thraw, there wasna ane 
 
 Could e'er come near her ; 
 Nae income, fivver, hoast, nor nana 
 
 Would ever steer her. 
 
12 SKEELY KIRSTY 
 
 She cured for pleasure, nae for fees ; 
 Healed man an' beast wi' equal ease : 
 She gae a lotion for the grease 
 
 To Spence the carrier, 
 That cured his mear, when the disease 
 
 Gaed ower the farrier. 
 
 Mtr ^ifl" o' ^rzi.fit\' 
 
 Was there a corp to streek or kist, 
 
 She aye was foremost to assist ; 
 
 She grat to think ' how he 'd be miss't, 
 
 Sae good and gifted ' ! 
 Syne handed roon' anither taste 
 
 Afore they lifted. 
 
SKEELY KIRSTY 13 
 
 Ae morn grim Death — that poacher fell — 
 Gat Kirsty in his girn hersel' ; 
 Nae epitaph her virtues tell, 
 
 It needs nae vreetin' : 
 On ae thing maistly Fame will dwell — 
 
 Her gift o' greetin'. 
 
J^"- 
 
 
 /^ litt-Jc m^knttig. Aae. owLf fiVL jrif /Arii " 
 
 THE ANTIQUARY 
 
 A LITTLE mannie, nae ower five feet three, 
 Sae bent wi' eild he lookit less than that, 
 
 His cleadin' fashioned wi' his tastes to 'gree, 
 Fae hose an' cuitikins to plaid an' hat. 
 
THE ANTIQUARY 15 
 
 His cot stob-thackit, wi' twa timmer lums, 
 A box-bed closet 'tween the but an' ben, 
 
 A low peat fire, where bauldrins span her thrums, 
 Wat dried his beets, an' smoked, an' read his lane. 
 
 The horn-en' fu* o' craggins, quaichs, an' caups, 
 Mulls, whorls, an' cruisies left bare room to stir 
 
 Wi' routh o' swourds an' dirks a' nicks an' slaps, 
 An' peer-men, used langsyne for haudin' fir. 
 
 He 'd skulls in cases, lest the mouldy guff 
 
 Should scunner frien's, or gather muckle flees ; 
 
 He 'd querns for grindin' either meal or snuff, 
 An' flints an' fleerishes to raise a bleeze. 
 
 Rowed in a cloutie, to preserve the glint, 
 He had a saxpence that had shot a witch, 
 
 Sae stark, she hadna left her like ahint 
 For killin' kye or giein' fouk the itch. 
 
 He kent auld spells, could trail the rape an* spae, 
 He 'd wallets fu' o' queer oonchancie leems. 
 
 Could dress a mart, prob hoven nowt, an' flay ; 
 Fell spavined horse, an' deftly use the fleems. 
 
i6 THE ANTIQUARY 
 
 He lived till ninety, an' this deein' wiss 
 He whispered, jist afore his spirit flew — 
 
 * Gweed grant that even in the land o' bliss 
 I '11 get a bield whaur some things arena new.' 
 
JEAMES 
 
 It's but a fortnight since we laid him doon, 
 An' cut the sods to hap his narrow lair — 
 
 On Sunday still the grass was dry an' broon ; 
 An' noo they 're up again the kist is bare, 
 
 For Bell this day we e'en maun lay aboon, 
 An' face in fun'ral blacks the drift ance mair. 
 
 Twa Fiersdays back she seem'd baith swak an* Strang, 
 A' day her clogs were clankin' roon' the closs ; 
 
 An* tho' an income she 'd complained o' lang 
 It never kept her yet fae kirk or moss. 
 
 Wha would hae thocht she 'd be the next to gang 
 That never grieved a grain at Jeames's loss ? 
 
 It seem'd richt unco — faith, *twas hardly fair, 
 Just when he thocht to slip awa* at last 
 
 An* drap for aye the trams o' wardly care — 
 The muckle gates aboon were barely fast 
 
 Ere she was pechin' up the gowden stair, 
 An' fleechin' Peter till he let her past. 
 
 B 
 
I JEAMES 
 
 When Jeames — I 'se warrant ye, wi' tremblin* shins — 
 Stands forrit, an' they tak' the muckle beuk 
 
 To reckon up his shortcomes, sHps, an' sins, 
 She '11 check the tally fae some canny neuk, 
 
 An' prod his memory when he begins 
 
 Should there be ony he would fain o'erleuk. 
 
 That Scuttrie Market when he was the waur — 
 He thocht the better — o' a drap o' yill, 
 
 An' fell at Muggart's door amo' the glaur, 
 Forgot the shaltie ower the hindmost gill, 
 
 Syne stoitered aff alane, he kent nae whaur, 
 An' sleepit wi' the sheep on Baadin's hill. 
 
 That Fast-day when he cawed an early load, 
 When craps were late an' weather byous saft, 
 
 Instead o' daund'rin to the Hoose o' God 
 An' noddin' thro' ' fourteenthly ' in the laft ; 
 
 Or how he banned the Laird upon the road — 
 His bawds an' birds that connached sae the craft. 
 
 Nae chance for him to discount or excuse 
 The wee'est bit, wi' her there keen to tell 
 
 How a' was true ; but yet, gin he should choose 
 To bid them look the credit side as well — 
 
 Ae conter claim they canna weel refuse — 
 The mony patient years he bore wi' Bell. 
 

 
 i^M/kti 
 
 SA.U 
 
 I^A 
 
 
 Ow£v- Aiml/^trc l\zf ^n££r ibra\' 
 
 THE MILLER 
 
 When riven wicks o* mou's were rife, 
 An' bonnets clad the green, 
 
 Aye in the thickest o' the strife 
 Auld Dusty Tarn was seen. 
 
 Nae Tarlan' man daur flout his fame 
 Had he a chance to hear ; 
 
20 THE MILLER 
 
 The Leochel men slid canny hame 
 
 When he cam' aff his mear. 
 At Scuttrie or at TumbHn' Fair 
 
 Nane ordered in sae free, 
 Or kent sae weel the way to share 
 
 A mutchkin amo' three. 
 An' when he took the road at nicht, 
 
 His bonnet some ajee, 
 Ye seldom saw a baulder wicht — 
 
 Till Isie met his e'e. 
 She waited whaur the muirlan' 
 track 
 
 Strikes wi' the hamewith turn ; 
 An' ower him there her anger brak* 
 
 Like some spate-ridden burn. 
 The ouzel, startled, left the saugh 
 
 An' skimmed alang the lade, 
 The kitty-neddies fae the haugh 
 
 Gaed pipin' ower her head. 
 But still she flate till Tammas, now 
 
 Dismounted on the loan, 
 Ran to the mill an' pu'd the tow 
 
 That set the water on ; 
 Syne busy banged the girnal lids. 
 
 An' tossed the sacks about. 
 
THE MILLER 21 
 
 Or steered again the bleezin' sids, 
 
 While aye she raved without. 
 She bann'd the moulter an' the mill, 
 
 The intak, lade, and dam, 
 The reekit dryster in the kil', 
 
 Syne back again to Tarn. 
 Till dark — the minister himsel* 
 
 I '11 swear he couldna stap her — 
 Her teethless mou' was like a bell, 
 
 Her tongue the clangin' clapper. 
 Neist mornin' she laid doon the law — 
 
 He 'd gang nae mair to fairs ; 
 An' sae he held the jaud in awe 
 
 He kept it — till St. Sairs. 
 
THE MILLER EXPLAINS 
 
 The byword ' as sweer as the Miller ' 
 
 Disturbs me but little, for hech ! 
 Ye 'II find for ane willin' to bishop 
 
 A score sittin' ready to pech. 
 But come to the brose or the bottle, 
 
 There 's few need less priggin' than me ; 
 While they 're busy blessin' the bannock, 
 
 I 'm raxin' a han' to fa' tee. 
 The neighbours clash lood o' my drinkin'. 
 
 An' naething hits harder than truth ; 
 But tales micht be tempered, I 'm thinkin', 
 
 Gin fouk would consider my drooth. 
 Nae doot, at the Widow's displenish 
 
 Gey aften I emptied the stoup ; 
 But thrift is a thing we should cherish, 
 
 An' whisky 's aye free at a roup. 
 Week in an' week oot, when I 'm millin', 
 
 The sids seem to stick in my throat ; 
 Nae wonder at markets I 'm willin' 
 
 To spend wi' a crony a groat. 
 
THE MILLER EXPLAINS 
 
 An' if I 've a shaltie to niffer, 
 
 Or 't maybe some barley to sell, 
 An oonslockened bargain 's aye stiffer — 
 
 Ye ken that fu' brawly yersel'. 
 Fae forbears my thirst I inherit, 
 
 As others get red hair or gout ; 
 The heirship 's expensive : mair merit 
 
 To me that I never cry out. 
 An' sae, man, I canna help thinkin' 
 
 The neighbours unkindly ; in truth, 
 Afore they can judge o' my drinkin' 
 
 They first maun consider my drooth. 
 
 23 
 
 "ConsiJliv rny ^rool'K" 
 
kM.^:^ 
 
 /l£.AiAiv\^ih Toon Iki. COixnh^ SiAt 
 
 THE PACKMAN 
 
 There was a couthy Packman, I kent him weel aneuch, 
 The simmer he was quartered within the Howe o' Tough ; 
 He sleepit in the barn end amo' the barley strae 
 But lang afore the milkers he was up at skreek o' day, 
 
THE PACKMAN 25 
 
 An' furth upon the cheese stane set his reekin' brose to queel 
 While in the caller strype he gied his barkit face a sweel ; 
 Syne wi' the ell-wan' in his neive to haud the tykes awa' 
 He humpit roon' the country side to clachan, craft an' ha'. 
 
 Upon the flaggit kitchen fleer he dumpit doon his pack, 
 Fu' keen to turn the penny ower, but itchin' aye to crack ; 
 The ploomen gaithered fae the fur', the millert fae the mill, 
 The herd just gied his kye a turn an' skirtit doon the hill. 
 The smith cam' sweatin' fae the fire, the weaver left his leem, 
 The lass forgot her comin' kirn an' connached a' the ream, 
 The cauper left his turn in' lay, the sooter wasna slaw 
 To fling his lapstane in the neuk, the elshin, birse an' a'. 
 
 The Packman spread his ferlies oot, an' ilka maid an' man 
 Cam' soon on something sairly nott, but never missed till 
 
 than ; 
 He 'd specs for peer auld granny when her sicht begood to fail. 
 An' thummles, needles, preens an' tape for whip-the-cat 
 
 to wale, 
 He 'd chanter reeds an' fiddle strings, an' trumps wi' double 
 
 stang, 
 A dream beuk 'at the weeda wife had hankered after lang, 
 He 'd worsit for the samplers, an' the bonniest valentines, 
 An' brooches were in great request wi' a' kirk-gangin* 
 
 queyns. 
 
26 THE PACKMAN 
 
 He 'd sheafs o' rare auld ballants, an' an antrin swatch he sang 
 Fae ' Mill o' Tiftie's Annie,' or o' * Johnnie More the Lang,' 
 He would lilt you * Hielan' Hairry ' till the tears ran doon 
 
 his nose, 
 Syne dicht them wi' a doonward sleeve an' into ' James 
 
 the Rose ' ; 
 The birn that rowed his shou'ders tho' sae panged wi' 
 
 things to sell 
 Held little to the claik he kent, an' wasna laith to tell, — 
 A waucht o* ale to slock his drooth, a pinch to clear his head, 
 An' the news cam' fae the Packman like the water doon the 
 
 lade. 
 
 He kent wha got the bledder when the sooter killed his 
 
 soo. 
 An' wha it was 'at threw the stane 'at crippled Geordie's 
 
 coo. 
 He kent afore the term cam' roon' what flittin's we would 
 
 see. 
 An' wha 'd be cried on Sunday neist, an' wha would like to be, 
 He kent wha kissed the sweetie wife the nicht o' Dancie's 
 
 ball. 
 An' what ill-trickit nickum catched the troot in Betty's wall, 
 He was at the feein' market, an' he kent a' wha were fou, 
 An' he never spoiled a story by consid'rin' gin 'twas true. 
 
' ^V cor\s,iA Vin ' K'l^ 
 
 ty 
 
 ?vas Vi 
 
 MU 
 
28 THE PACKMAN 
 
 Nae plisky ever yet was played but he could place the 
 
 blame, 
 An' tell you a' the story o't, wi' chapter, verse an' name, 
 He 'd redd you up your kith an' kin atween the Dee an' 
 
 Don, 
 Your forbears wha were hanged or jiled fae auld Culloden 
 
 on, 
 Altho' he saw your face get red he wouldna haud his tongue, 
 An' only leuch when threatened wi' a reemish fae a rung ; 
 But a' the time the trade gaed on, an' notes were rankit 
 
 oot 
 Had lang been hod in lockit kists aneth the Sunday suit. 
 
 An' faith the ablach threeve upon 't, he never cried a halt 
 Until he bocht fae Shou'der-win' a hardy cleekit shalt. 
 An' syne a spring-cairt at the roup when cadger Willie 
 
 broke. 
 That held aneth the cannas a' that he could sell or troke ; 
 He bocht your eggs an' butter, an' awat he wasna sweer 
 To lift the poacher's birds an' bawds when keepers werna 
 
 near ; 
 Twa sizzens wi' the cairt an' then — his boolie rowed sae 
 
 fine — 
 He took a roadside shoppie an' put * Merchant ' on the 
 
 sign. 
 
THE PACKMAN 
 
 29 
 
 An* still he threeve an' better threeve, sae fast his trade it grew 
 That he thirled a cripple tailor an' took in a queyn to shue, 
 An' when he got a stoot guidwife he didna get her bare, 
 She brocht him siller o' her ain 'at made his puckle mair, 
 An' he lent it oot sae wisely — deil kens at what per cent — 
 That farmers fan' the int'rest near as ill to pay 's the rent ; 
 An' when the bank set up a branch, the wily boddies saw 
 They beet to mak' him Agent to hae ony chance ava'. 
 
 WhtA ^\v- h^f^K sjI" Mb 3 bfAnci\ " 
 
30 
 
 THE PACKMAN 
 
 Tho* noo he wore a grauvit an' a dicky thro* the week 
 There never was a bargain gaun 'at he was far to seek, 
 He bocht the crafter's stirks an' caur, an* when the girse 
 
 was set 
 He aye took on a park or twa, an' never rued it yet ; 
 Till when a handy tack ran oot his offer was the best 
 An' he dreeve his gig to kirk an' fair as canty as the rest, 
 
 
THE PACKMAN 31 
 
 An* when they made him Elder, wi' the ladle it was gran' 
 To see him work the waster laft an' never miss a man. 
 
 He sent his sons to college, an' the auldest o' the three — 
 Tho' wi' a tyauve — got Greek aneuch to warsle thro 's degree, 
 An' noo aneth the soundin' box he wags a godly pow ; 
 The second loon took up the law, an' better fit there 's fyou 
 At chargin' sax an' auchtpence, or at keepin' on a plea, 
 An' stirrin' strife 'mang decent fouk wha left alane would 
 
 'gree ; 
 The youngest ane 's a doctor wi' a practice in the sooth, 
 A clever couthy cowshus chiel some hampered wi' a drooth. 
 
 The dother — he had only ane — gaed hine awa' to France 
 To learn to sing an' thoom the harp, to parley- voo an' dance ; 
 It cost a protty penny but 'twas siller wisely wared 
 For the lass made oot to marry on a strappin' Deeside laird ; 
 She wasna just a beauty, but he didna swither lang. 
 For he had to get her tocher or his timmer had to gang : 
 Sae noo she sits * My Lady ' an' nae langer than the streen 
 I saw her wi' her carriage comin' postin' ower Culblean. 
 
 But tho' his bairns are sattled noo, he still can cast the coat 
 An' work as hard as ever to mak' saxpence o' a groat ; 
 He plans as keen for years to come as when he first began, 
 Forgettin' he 's on borrowed days an' past the Bible span. 
 
32 
 
 THE PACKMAN 
 
 See, yon 's his hoose, an' there he sits ; supposin' we cry in, 
 It 's cheaper drinkin' toddy there than payin' at the Inn, 
 You '11 find we '11 hae a shortsome nicht an' baith be bidden 
 
 back. 
 But — in your lug — ye maunna say a word aboot the Pack. 
 
 Drlr\}\^r\' toc\^ ikift " 
 
Ms. Aas a tunt ^r ilKa tealm. 
 
 THE LETTERGAE 
 
 On Sundays see his saintly look — 
 
 What grace he maun be feelin', 
 When stridin' slawly ben the pass, 
 
 Or to the lettrin speelin' ! 
 What unction in his varied tones, 
 
 As aff the line he screeds us, 
 Syne bites the fork, an' bums the note. 
 
 Ere to the tune he leads us ! 
 c 
 
34 
 
 THE LETTERGAE 
 
 Plain paraphrase, or quirky hymn, 
 
 Come a' the same to Peter, 
 He has a tune for ilka psalm 
 
 Nae matter what the metre. 
 * St. Paul's ' or ' University ' 
 
 Wi' equal ease is lifted ; 
 At * Martyrdom ' he fair excels — 
 
 Eh ! keep 's sirs, but he 's gifted ! 
 
 /Ac cUch^A's Wish Joi^i 
 
 But see him now, some workin' day 
 When aproned in his smiddy. 
 
THE LETTERGAE 35 
 
 An' mark the thuds 'at shape the shoon, 
 
 An' dint the very studdy ; 
 Or when he cocks his elbuck up 
 
 To work the muckle bellows, 
 An' tells the clachan's latest joke 
 
 To loud-lunged farmer fellows ; 
 Or hear him in the forenicht lilt, 
 
 Wi' sober face nae langer, 
 Some sang, nae fae a Sunday book, 
 
 A tune that isna * Bangor ' : 
 To recognize him then, I '11 wad, 
 
 A stranger it would baffle ; 
 On Sabbath he 's the Lettergae, 
 
 The Smith at roup or raffle. 
 
MARGARET DODS 
 
 LATE VINTNER IN ST. RONAN'S 
 
 Nae mair the sign aboon the door 
 
 Wi* passin' winds is flappin' ; 
 Fish Nellie comes nae as afore 
 
 Wi' nervous chappin'. 
 The Captain 's followed Francie Tyrell — 
 
 Mind ance he gaed to seek him, 
 An' felt your besom shaft play dirl 
 
 Doon-by at Cleikum. 
 Wi' thrift as great as made you build 
 
 To save the window taxin', 
 Death closed your een when greedy Eild 
 
 Cam' schedule raxin'. 
 
 How gladly would we lea' the Clubs, 
 ' Wildfire ' or * Helter Skelter,' 
 
 Dicht fae our feet a' earthly dubs, 
 Had ye a shelter 
 
MARGARET DODS 37 
 
 Whaur trauchled chiels — ' an' what for no ? * 
 
 Gin sae it pleased the gods — 
 Could rest an' fish a week or so 
 
 At Marget Dods'. 
 'Twould hearten strangers gin they saw 
 
 Across some caller loanin' 
 A wavin' sign whaur crook an' a* 
 
 Hung auld St. Ronan. 
 
 Then haudin' hard to new-won grace, 
 
 Rejectin' aucht 'at 's evil, 
 Ye wouldna thole in sic a place 
 
 Dick Tinto's Deevil, 
 But send him sornin' doon the howe 
 
 To some tamteen or hottle, 
 Whaur birselt vratches fain, I trow. 
 
 Wad dreep a bottle. 
 An' since you 're bye wi' anger noo. 
 
 Send wi' him something caller — 
 As muckle 's slock the gizzened mou' 
 
 O' ae damned ' Waller.' 
 
lil) ll^y f.ttif Ik^toyT" 
 
 THE BACK O' BEYONT IS DRY 
 
 Fae the Back o' Beyont the carlie cam'. 
 
 He fittit it a* the wye ; 
 The hooses were few, an' the road was lang, 
 
 Nae winner the man was dry — 
 He was covered wi' stoor fae head to heel, 
 
 He 'd a drooth 'at ye couldna buy, 
 But aye he sang as he leggit alang 
 
 * The Back o' Beyont is dry.' 
 
THE BACK O' BEYONT IS DRY 39 
 
 He 'd a score o' heather-fed wethers to sell, 
 
 An' twa or three scrunts o' kye, 
 An unbroken cowt to niffer or coup, 
 
 A peck o' neep seed to buy ; 
 But never a price would the crater mak', 
 
 The dealers got * No ' nor ' Ay,' 
 Till they tittit the tow, he 'd dae naething but sough 
 
 * The Back o' Beyont is dry.' 
 
 r the year o' short corn he dee'd o' drooth, 
 
 But they waked him weel upbye, 
 'Twas a drink or a dram to the cronies that cam*, 
 
 Or baith an' they cared to try. 
 When the wag-at-the-wa' had the wee han' at twa 
 
 Ye shoulda jist heard the cry. 
 As the corp in the bed gied a warsle an' said 
 
 ' The Back o' Beyont is dry.' 
 
 Fae Foggyloan to the Brig o' Potarch, 
 
 An' sooth by the Glen o' Dye, 
 Fae the Buck o' the Cabrach thro' Midmar, 
 
 Whaurever your tryst may lie ; 
 At ilka toll on the weary road 
 
 There 's a piece an' a dram forbye. 
 Gin ye show them your groat, an' say laich i' your throat 
 
 * The Back o' Beyont is dry.' 
 
40 THE BACK O' BEYONT IS DRY 
 
 ' The Back o' Beyont is dry, 
 
 The Back o' Beyont is dry. 
 
 To slocken a drooth can never be wrong, 
 
 Sae help yourseV an' pass it along, 
 
 The Back a' Beyont is dry* 
 
A GREEN YULE 
 
 I 'm weary, weary houkin', in the cauld, weet, clorty clay, 
 
 But this will be the deepest in the yaird ; 
 It 's nae a four fit dibble for a common man the day — 
 
 Ilk bane I 'm layin' by is o' a laird. 
 Whaever slips the timmers, lippens me to mak' his bed, 
 
 For lairds maun just be happit like the lave ; 
 An' kistit corps are lucky, for when a' thing 's deen an' 
 said. 
 
 There 's lythe, save for the livin', in a grave. 
 
 Up on the watch-tower riggin' there 's a draggled hoodie 
 craw 
 
 That hasna missed a funeral the year ; 
 He kens as weel 's anither this will fairly ding them a', 
 
 Nae tenant on the land but will be here. 
 Sae up an* doon the tablin' wi' a gloatin' roupy hoast, 
 
 He haps, wi' twistit neck an' greedy e'e. 
 As if some deil rejoicin' that anither sowl was lost 
 
 An' waitin' for his share o' the dregie. 
 

 
 Dr<£vv MAC! I* 
 cr pnToc,Y 
 
 
A GREEN YULE 
 
 43 
 
 There 's sorrow in the mansion, an' the Lady that tak's on 
 
 Is young to hae sae muckle on her han', 
 Wi' the haugh lands to excamb where the marches cross the 
 Don, 
 
 An* factors aye hame-drauchted when they can. 
 
 /OMM h hh'i sat mucKlc" 
 
 Come spring, we 'II a* be readin', when the kirk is latten oot, 
 
 * Displenish ' tackit up upon the yett ; 
 For hame-fairm, cairts an' cattle, will be roupit up, I doot, 
 
 The policies a' pailined aff an' set. 
 
44 A GREEN YULE 
 
 Twa lairds afore I 've happit, an' this noo will mak' the 
 third, 
 
 An' tho' they spak' o' him as bein' auld, 
 It seerly seemed unlikely I would see him in the yird, 
 
 For lang ere he was beardit I was bald. 
 It 's three year by the saxty, come the week o' Hallow 
 Fair, 
 
 Since first I laid a divot on a grave ; 
 The Hairst o' the Almighty I hae gathered late an' ear*. 
 
 An' coont the sheaves I 've stookit, by the thrave. 
 
 I hae kent grief at Marti'mas would neither haud nor bin' — 
 
 It was sair for even unco folk to see ; 
 Yet ere the muir was yellow wi' the blossom on the whin, 
 
 The tears were dry, the headstane a' ajee. 
 Nae bairns, nae wife, will sorrow, when at last I 'm laid awa', 
 
 Nae oes will plant their daisies at my head ; 
 A' gane, but I will follow soon, an' weel content for a' 
 
 There 's nane but fremt to lay me in my bed. 
 
 Earth to earth, an' dust to dust, an' the sowl gangs back 
 to God : 
 
 An' few there be wha think their day is lang ; 
 Yet here I 'm weary waitin', till the Master gies the nod, 
 
 To tak' the gait I 've seen sae mony gang. 
 
_ A GREEN YULE 45 
 
 I fear whiles He 's forgotten on his eildit gard'ner here, 
 
 But ae day He '11 remember me, an' then 
 My birn o' sins afore Him I '11 spread on the Judgment 
 fleer, 
 
 Syne wait until the angel says ' Come ben.' 
 
 There noo, the ill bird 's flaffin' on the very riggin' 
 stane. 
 
 He sees them, an' could tell ye, did ye speer. 
 The order they will come in, ay, an' name them ilka ane, 
 
 An' lang afore the funeral is here. 
 The feathers will be noddin' as the hearse crawls past the 
 Toll, 
 
 As soon 's they tap the knowe they '11 be in sicht ; 
 The driver on the dickey knappin' sadly on his mull, 
 
 Syne raxin' doon to pass it to the vricht. 
 
 The factor in the carriage will be next, an' ridin' close 
 
 The doctor, ruggin' hard upon his grey ; 
 The farmers syne, an' feuars speakin' laich aboot their 
 loss, 
 Yet thankfu' for the dram on sic a day. 
 Ay, there at last they 're comin', I maun haste an' lowse 
 the tow 
 An' ring the lang procession doon the brae ; 
 
46 A GREEN YULE 
 
 I 've heard the bell sae aften, I ken wee! its weary jow, 
 The tale o' weird it tries sae hard to say. 
 
 * I }<S.r\ Wtz] its wtiX^ JoW 
 
 Bring them alang, the young, the Strang, 
 
 The weary an* the auld ; 
 Feed as they will on haugh or hill, 
 
 This is the only fauld. 
 
A GREEN YULE 
 
 Dibble them doon, the laird, the loon, 
 King an' the cadgin' caird, 
 
 The lady fine beside the queyn, 
 A' in the same kirkyaird. 
 
 47 
 
 IVis Is Us only -^i^lJl • 
 
 The war St, the best, they a' get rest ; 
 Ane 'neath a headstane braw^ 
 
48 A GREEN YULE 
 
 Wt deep-cut text ; while ower the next 
 The wavin' grass is a\ 
 
 Mighty 6' name, unknown to fame 
 
 Slippit aneth the sod; 
 Greatest an^ least alike face east, 
 
 Waitin' the trump o' God. 
 
'A WCS. WCC jlfrt m A'i. /^t\M'^ * 
 
 HAME 
 
 There 's a wee, wee glen in the Hielan's, 
 
 Where I fain, fain would be ; 
 There 's an auld kirk there on the hillside 
 
 I weary sair to see. 
 In a low lythe nook in the graveyard 
 
 Drearily stands alane, 
 Marking the last lair of a' I lo'ed, 
 
 A wee moss-covered stane. 
 
50 
 
 HAME 
 
 There 's an auld hoose sits in a hollow 
 
 Half happit by a tree ; 
 At the door the untended lilac 
 
 Still blossoms for the bee ; 
 
 I WAnAtf ot\ oiriki. diAi.<\'loA'U 
 
 But the auld roof is sairly seggit, 
 There 's nane now left to care ; 
 
 And the thatch ance sae neatly stobbit 
 Has lang been scant and bare. 
 
HAME 51 
 
 Aft as I lie 'neath a foreign sky 
 
 In dreams I see them a' — 
 The auld dear kirk, the dear auld hame, 
 
 The glen sae far awa'. 
 Dreams flee at dawn, and the tropic sun 
 
 Nae ray o' hope can gie ; 
 I wander on o'er the desert lone, 
 
 There 's nae mair hame for me. 
 
Ihi v^h\b-ik'L'C^Ys ^ ^M AoosL fa Aooss:-.'' 
 
 SPRING IN THE HOWE O' ALFORD 
 
 There 's burstin' buds on the larick now, 
 A' the birds are paired an' biggin' ; 
 
 Saft soughin' win's dry the dubby howe, 
 An' the eildit puir are thiggin'. 
 
SPRING IN THE HOWE O' ALFORD 53 
 
 The whip-the-cat 's aff fae hoose to hoose, 
 
 Wi* his oxtered lap-buird lampin', 
 An' hard ahint, wi' the shears an' goose, 
 
 His wee, pechin' 'prentice trampin'. 
 
 The laird's approach gets a coat o' san*. 
 When the grieve can spare a yokin' ; 
 
 On the market stance there 's a tinker clan, 
 An' the guidwife's hens are clockin'. 
 
 The mason's harp is set up on en*, 
 
 He 's harlin' the fire-hoose gable ; 
 The sheep are aff to the hills again 
 
 As hard as the lambs are able. 
 
 There 's spots o* white on the lang brown park, 
 
 Where the sacks o' seed are sittin' ; 
 An' wily craws fae the dawn to dark 
 
 At the harrow tail are flittin'. 
 
 The liftward lark lea's the dewy seggs, 
 
 In the hedge the yeldrin 's singin' ; 
 The teuchat cries for her harried eggs. 
 
 In the bothy window hingin'. 
 
54 SPRING IN THE HOWE O' ALFORD 
 
 Nae snaw-bree now in the Leochel Burn, 
 Nae a water baillie goupin' — 
 
 But hear the whirr o' the miller's pirn, 
 The plash where the trouts are loupin*. 
 
THE HINT O' HAIRST 
 
 O FOR a day at the Hint o' Hairst, 
 With the craps weel in an' stackit, 
 
 When the farmer steps thro' the corn-yard, 
 An' counts a' the rucks he 's thackit : 
 
 When the smith stirs up his fire again, 
 To sharpen the ploughman's coulter ; 
 
 When the miller sets a new picked stane, 
 An' dreams o' a muckle moulter : 
 
 When cottars* kail get a touch o' frost, 
 That mak's them but taste the better ; 
 
 An' thro' the neeps strides the leggined laird, 
 Wi' 's gun an' a draggled setter : 
 
 When the forester wi' axe an' keel 
 Is markin' the wind-blawn timmer, 
 
 An' there 's trufTs aneuch at the barn gale 
 To reist a' the fires till simmer. 
 
56 THE HINT 0' HAIRST 
 
 Syne O for a nicht, ae lang forenicht, 
 Ower the dambrod spent or cairtin', 
 
 Or keepin' tryst wi' a neebour's lass — 
 An' a mou' held up at pairtin'. 
 
 Ktl^'"' '^sl" >V^i'a AStiowi'S )^aS * 
 
 
Slcdy yfmdi iAal" f/Vc Ar< hfAlf 1 ' 
 
 WINTER 
 
 Now Winter rides wi' angry skirl 
 On sleety winds that rive an' whirl, 
 An* gaberlunzie-like plays tirl 
 
 At sneck an' lozen. 
 The bairns can barely bide the dirl 
 
 O' feet ^ane dozin. 
 
58 WINTER 
 
 The ingle *s heaped wi' bleezin' peats 
 
 An' bits o' splutt'rin' firry reets 
 
 Which shortly thow the ploughmen's beets ; 
 
 An' peels appear 
 That trickle oot aneth their seats 
 
 A' ower the fleer. 
 
 The auld wife's eident wheel gaes birr, 
 The thrifty lasses shank wi' virr ; 
 Till stents are finished nane will stir 
 
 Lest Yule should come, 
 When chiels fae wires the wark mith tirr 
 
 To sweep the lum. 
 
 The shepherd newly fae the hill 
 Sits thinkin' on his wethers still ; 
 He kens this frost is sure to kill 
 
 A' dwinin' sheep : 
 His collie, tired, curls in its tail 
 
 An' fa's asleep. 
 
 Now Granny strips the bairns for bed : 
 Ower soon the extra quarter fled 
 
WINTER 59 
 
 For which sae sairly they had pled : 
 
 But there, it chappit ; 
 
 An' sleepy * gweed words ' soon are said, 
 
 An' cauld backs happit. 
 
 The milkers tak' their cogues at last, 
 Draw moggins on, tie mutches fast, 
 Syne hap their lantrens fae the blast 
 
 Maun noo be met ; 
 An' soon the day's last jot is past. 
 
 Milk sey'd an' set. 
 
 Syne Sandy, gantin', raxes doon 
 His fiddle fae the skelf aboon, 
 Throws by the bag, an' souffs a tune, 
 
 Screws up a string, 
 Tries antics on the shift, but soon 
 
 Starts some auld spring. 
 
 Swith to the fleer ilk eager chiel 
 
 Bangs wi' his lass to start the reel. 
 
 Cries * Kissin' time ' ; the coy teds squeal, 
 
 An' struggle vainly : 
 The sappier smacks whiles love reveal. 
 
 But practice mainly. 
 
60 WINTER 
 
 An opening chord wi' lang upbow 
 The fiddler strikes, syne gently now 
 
 'JVSsIa' lf/rv£, " 
 
 Glides into some Strathspey by Gow, 
 
 Or Marshall 't may be ; 
 
 The dancers lichtly needle thro' ; 
 
 Rab sets to Leebie. 
 
WINTER 6i 
 
 WV crackin* thooms * Hooch ! Hooch ! ' they reel. 
 The winceys, spreadin' as they wheel, 
 Gie stolen glints o' souple heel 
 
 An' shapely queet. 
 The guidman claps his hands, sae weel 
 
 He 's pleased to see 't. 
 
 The wrinkles leave the shepherd's broo, 
 For see the sonsy mistress too 
 Shows what the aulder fouks can do, 
 
 An', licht 's a bird, 
 Some sober country dance trips thro' 
 
 Wi' Jock the herd. 
 
 Syne lads wha noo can dance nae mair 
 To cauldrife chaumers laith repair ; 
 An* lasses, lauchin', speel the stair, 
 
 Happy an' warm. 
 For liftin' hearts an' killin' care 
 
 Music 's the charm ! 
 
 When frost is keen an' winter bauld, 
 An* deep the drift on muir an' fauld ; 
 
62 
 
 WINTER 
 
 When mornin's dark an' snell an* cauld 
 Bite to the bane ; 
 
 We turn in thocht, as to a hauld, 
 
 To some sic een. 
 
 Wi'- JocK AcAcfA " 
 
Acrofs iKt -^t 
 
 R. L. S. 
 
 He hears nae mair the Sabbath bells 
 Borne on the breeze amang Lowden's dells, 
 Nor waukens when the bugle tells 
 
 The dawn o' day. 
 
 Fate was the flute the Gauger played, 
 Cheerin' him on wi' its hopes ahead ; 
 Now * O'er the hills ' the master 's laid 
 
 ' An' far away.* 
 
 Tho' frail the bark, O he was brave, 
 Nor heedit the stormy winds that drave ; 
 But lanely now the sailor's grave 
 
 Across the faem. 
 
64 R. L. S. 
 
 The deer unhunted roam at will, 
 
 The whaup cries sair on the dreary hill, 
 
 The chase is o'er, the horn is still : 
 
 The hunter 's hame. 
 

 BURNS' CENTENARY 
 
 ' I '11 be more respected a hundred years after I am dead than I am at 
 present.'— R. B., 1796. 
 
 * My fame is sure ; when I am dead 
 A century,' the Poet said, 
 
 * They '11 heap the honours on my head 
 
 They grudge me noo ' ; 
 
 E 
 
66 BURNS' CENTENARY 
 
 To-day the hundred years hae sped 
 
 That prove it true. 
 
 Whiles as the feathered ages flee, 
 Time sets the sand-glass on his knee, 
 An' ilka name baith great an' wee 
 
 Shak's thro' his sieve ; 
 Syne sadly wags his pow to see 
 
 The few that live. 
 
 An' still the quickest o' the lot 
 Is his wha made the lowly cot 
 A shrine, whaur ilka rev' rent Scot 
 
 Bareheadit turns. 
 Our mither's psalms may be forgot, 
 
 But never Burns. 
 
 This nicht, auld Scotland, dry your tears, 
 An' let nae sough o' grief come near 's ; 
 We '11 speak o' Rab 's gin he could hear 's ; 
 
 Life 's but a fivver. 
 And he 's been healed this hundred years 
 
 To live for ever. 
 
||]ll!!;iiiilili'*l!!li4i!(i| 
 
 «-' 
 
 i few a tr«a«\l- fc^oolioy c/valK Ai» oAtnt- ' 
 
 FAME 
 
 I saw a truant schoolboy chalk his name 
 Upon the Temple door ; then with a shout 
 
 Run off ; that night a weary beggar came, 
 Leant there his ragged back and rubbed it out. 
 
 Dry-lipped she stands an* casts her glance afar, 
 Ae hand across her brows to shield her een, 
 
 Her horn flung careless on the tapmost scaur, 
 
 Where names deep chiselled in the rocks are seen. 
 
68 FAME 
 
 An' far below, on ilka ridge an* knowe, 
 
 A warslin' thrang o' mortals still she spies, 
 Wha strive an' fecht an' spurn the grassy howe — 
 
 Thro' whins an' heather ettlin' aye to rise. 
 Ane whiles she sees, wha, perched upon a stane, 
 
 Proclaims that he at least the goal has won. 
 But shortly finds he *s shiverin' there his lane 
 
 Wi' scores aboon, between him an' the sun. 
 Another, sair forfochen wi' the braes. 
 
 Enjoys the view while he has strength to see ; 
 ' Weel 's better aye than waur,' content, he says, 
 
 * Thus far is far an' far aneuch for me.' 
 Some wise, or lazy, never quit the glen. 
 
 But stretched at easedom watch the hill aboon. 
 Glad whiles to see ane gettin' up they ken. 
 
 But aft'ner pleased to see him rumblin' doon. 
 Ane, better shod or stronger than the lave. 
 
 Gets near aneuch to grip her skirts at last ; 
 She lifts her horn an' o'er a new-made grave 
 
 Awakes the echoes wi' a fun'ral blast. 
 
Hti.< AntKck ^0 cx\'f> ki< ski-f^S iit- )asI~ • 
 
THE AE REWARD 
 
 Gae wauken up the Muses nine ; 
 
 Tho' we 've nae plaited bays 
 Aroon' their curly pows to twine, 
 
 We winna stent them praise. 
 Gin music tak' her chanter doon, 
 
 Her sister start a sang, 
 The other saeven join the tune 
 
 An' lift it lood an' lang. 
 
 First set the tune to suit the time 
 
 When we were loons at school, 
 The sang can be a careless rhyme 
 
 Nae measured aff by rule. 
 We stole our pleasures then, prepared 
 
 Wi' hands held out to pay ; 
 Were aulder sins as easy squared, 
 
 Oor slates were clean the day. 
 
 Syne twa three bars in safter key 
 For days o' youthfu' love, 
 
THE AE REWARD 71 
 
 When lasses a' to you an' me 
 
 Were angels fae above. 
 Lang-leggit Time, but he was fleet 
 
 When we 'd a lass the piece, 
 When bondage aye o'er a' was sweet, 
 
 An' freedom nae release. 
 
 Noo stamp an' blaw a skirl o' war — 
 
 The times that noo we hae, 
 An' gin the need be near or far 
 
 We 're ready for the day. 
 The tykes are roon' the lion's lair, 
 
 We 've seen the like before. 
 An' seldom hae they wanted mair 
 
 When ance they heard him roar. 
 
 Syne choke the drones — ae reed 's enew 
 
 To play the days to come, 
 When auld Age stachers into view 
 
 An' adds up a' the sum. 
 We 've loved an' focht an' sell't an' bocht 
 
 Until we 're short o' breath ; 
 The auld kirkyard the ae reward. 
 
 An' that we get fae Death. 
 
"I^wkr OYftf i\<L CoiAnal 3omX'' 
 
 «MY LORD' 
 
 Nakit tho' we 're born an' equal, 
 Lucky anes are made Police ; 
 
 An' if civil life 's the sequel, 
 Honours but wi' age increase, 
 
 Till a Baillie, syne selected 
 Ruler ower the Council Board, 
 
 An' tho* never re-elected, 
 
 ' Ance a Provost, aye " My Lord." ' 
 
' MY LORD ' 
 
 Credit 's got by advertisin* 
 Ye hae siller still to lend ; 
 
 Get the word o' early risin', 
 Ye can sleep a week on end. 
 
 73 
 
 * l[t^^t A 1ro/os|- . ays. y\y Jo(i! 
 
 Gie a man a name for fightin' — 
 
 Never need he wear a sword ; 
 
 Men will flee afore his flytin' — 
 
 ' Ance a Provost, aye " My Lord." ' 
 
74 ' MY LORD ' 
 
 But for mischief name a body, 
 He can never win aboon 't, 
 
 Folk wad swear he chate the wuddy 
 In the Hnt-pot gin he droon't ; 
 
 For unless ye start wi' thrivin', 
 A' your virtues are ignored, 
 
 Vain a* future toil an' strivin' — 
 
 ' Ance a Provost, aye " My Lord. 
 
IN THE GLOAMIN' 
 
 Why sinks the sun sae slowly doon 
 
 Behind the Hill o' Fare ? 
 What restless cantrip 's ta'en the moon ? — 
 
 She 's up an hour an' main 
 I doubt they 're in a plot the twa 
 
 To cheat me o' the gloamin' ; 
 Yestreen they saw me slip awa', 
 
 An' ken where I gang roamin'. 
 
 The trees bent low their list'nin' heads 
 
 A' round the Loch o' Skene ; 
 The saft winds whispered 'rnang the reeds 
 
 As we gaed by yestreen. 
 The bee, brushed fae the heather bell, 
 
 Hummed loudly at our roamin', 
 Syne hurried hame in haste to tell 
 
 The way we spent the gloamin'. 
 
 The mavis told his mate to hush 
 
 An' hearken fae the tree ; 
 The robin keekit fae a bush 
 
 Fu' pawkily an' slee. 
 
76 IN THE GLOAMIN' 
 
 An* now they sing o' what they saw 
 Whenever we gang roamin' ; 
 
 They pipe the very words an* a* 
 We whispered in the gloamin*. 
 
 The wintry winds may tirr the trees, 
 
 Clouds hide baith sun an* moon, 
 An early frost the loch may freeze. 
 
 An' still the birdies* tune. 
 The bee a harried bike may mourn, 
 
 An' mirk o'ertak' the gloamin', 
 But aye to thee my thochts will turn, 
 
 Wherever I gang roamin*. 
 
THE MAID O' THE MILL 
 
 The cushie doos are cooin' in the birk, 
 
 The pee-weets are cryin' on the lea, 
 The starlings in the belfry o' the kirk 
 
 Are layin' plans as merry as can be. 
 The mavis in the plantin' has a mate, 
 
 The blackbird is busy wi' his nest, 
 Then why until the summer should we wait 
 
 When spring could see us happy as the rest ? 
 
 There 's leaves upon the bourtree on the haugh, 
 
 The blossom is drappin' fae the gean. 
 There 's buds upon the rantree an' the saugh. 
 
 The ferns about the Lady's Well are green. 
 A' day the herd is liltin' on the hill, 
 
 The o'ercome o' ilka sang *s the same : 
 ' There are ower mony maidens at the Mill, 
 
 It 's time the ane I trysted wi' cam' hame ! * 
 
Ih- Vf&ch. o ikt- C^\^tv\ A^\< 
 
 THE WITCH O' THE GOLDEN HAIR 
 
 AuLD carlins ride on their brooms astride 
 
 Awa' thro' the midnight air, 
 But they cast nae spell on a man sae fell 
 
 As the Witch o' the Golden Hair. 
 
THE WITCH O' THE GOLDEN HAIR 79 
 
 Nae a fairy free 'neath the hazel tree 
 
 That dances upon the green 
 Ever kent a charm that could heal or harm 
 
 Like the glint o' her twa blue een. 
 
 Fae the earth she 's reived, fae the Heav'n she 's thieved, 
 
 For her cauldron 's deadly brew ; 
 She laughs at the stounds o' the hearts she wounds, 
 
 For what recks the Witch o' rue ? 
 
 Lang, lang may the vine in its envy twine 
 
 To compass a bower sae rare. 
 As will peer, I trow, wi' her broad low brow 
 
 An' her wavin' golden hair. 
 
 The bloom fae the peach that we ne'er could reach, 
 
 The red that the apple missed, 
 You '11 find if you seek on the Witch's cheek, 
 
 Left there when the summer kissed. 
 
 The blue drappit doon fae the lift aboon 
 
 To shine in her dancin' een ; 
 An' the honey-bee sips fae her red, red lips, 
 
 Syne brags o' the sweets between. 
 
8o THE WITCH O' THE GOLDEN HAIR 
 
 Wi' a magic wile she has won the smile 
 That the mornin' used to wear, 
 
 An' the gold the sun in his splendour spun 
 Lies tangled amang her hair. 
 
 The saft south wind cam' to her to find 
 
 A haven to sink an' die, 
 An' the breath o' myrrh it bequeathed to her 
 
 You '11 find in the Witch's sigh. 
 
 The dimples three that you still can see 
 
 Are a' she can claim her ain, 
 For in Nature fair naught can compare 
 
 With them ; they are hers alane. 
 
ARLES 
 
 For arles he gae me a kiss, 
 An' twa ilka day was my fee ; 
 
 A bargain nae surely amiss, 
 
 If paid where naebody could see. 
 
 But scarce was the compact complete 
 Ere I would hae broken 't again. 
 
 The arles he gae were sae sweet, 
 For mair o' them. Sirs, I was fain. 
 
 It 's braw wi' the tweezlock to twine 
 Lang rapes in the barn sae lythe, 
 
 Yet better by far when it 's fine, 
 An' I gaither after his scythe. 
 
 O busy 's the banster at e'en, 
 
 Till bedtime he sits an' he glooms, 
 
 An' aye he cries ' Lassie, a preen,' 
 An' worries the stobs in his thooms. 
 F 
 
82 
 
 ARLES 
 
 The laddie is tired wi' the rake, 
 Sleep soon puts a steek in his e*e, 
 
 An' I slip awa* to the break 
 An' cannily gather my fe«. 
 
 'f\t\ \ s\\^ ^Wa'fe^c Kruk," 
 
WHERE LOVE WAS NANE 
 
 At farmers' faugh lairds still may laugh, 
 An' the tinker sing as he cloutJ the pan ; 
 
 But what will cheer my bairnie dear 
 
 When he kens his father 's a witless man ? 
 
 Bought by a ring, puir silly thing, 
 
 An' bent by the wind o' my kinsfolk's breath, 
 Wha would gang braw, if that were 't a' ? — 
 
 O ! a loveless life it is waur than death ! 
 
 Will land or hoose seem good excuse 
 
 For a mither married where love was nane ? 
 
 It 's hard for me, this weird to dree. 
 
 But it 's waur that I canna bear 't my lane. 
 
 My puir wee bairn, ye '11 live to learn 
 How heavy the burden ye hae to bear. 
 
 What 's gold or name when born to shame, 
 An' o' sic a twasome to be the heir ? 
 
THE DEIL AN' THE DEEVILOCK 
 
 The muckle Deil lay at the mirk pit mou', 
 An' hard at his heel lay a Deevilock ; 
 
 While the brimstane reek wi' an upward spew 
 Swirled roon' baith the Deil an' the Deevilock. 
 
 As their tails like flails were fannin' the air, 
 
 Said the big ane then to the wee ane there : 
 
 * In colour an' scouk we are sib as sins, 
 
 Wi' a half ell mair we would pass for twins.* 
 (' A wee toad spits,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * Since the warl' was made ' — 'twas the auld Deil 
 
 spak' — 
 (* That 's a far cry noo,' quo' the Deevilock.)- 
 
 * I hae wandered far but I 've aye come back.' 
 
 (' To a het hame too,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 ' Since first I set oot wi' a teem new creel, 
 Haena mortals changed an' their ways as weel ! 
 For then I was thin an' had wark enew, 
 Noo I 'm fat as creesh, an' the furnace fu'.* 
 
 (* Improve the draught,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
\ 
 
 
86 THE DEIL AN' THE DEEVILOCK 
 
 * Then aften I swore at the cloven hoof,' 
 
 (' It 's gey ill to shee,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * An' the horns an' tail scared mony a coof.' 
 
 (' Faith they hamper me,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * Gin I taul' ye noo ye would scarce believe 
 The bother I had wi' that besom Eve ; 
 But forbid her nDO, ye would find, I ween, 
 She would eat the crap while it yet was green.* 
 
 (' Syne lift the tree,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * In the early days I would aften fail,' 
 
 (' Syne sae lood God leuch,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * To wile them awa' to my henchman Baal.' 
 
 (' Wasna auld Job teuch ? ' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 ' The brawest an' best o' my weel waled flock 
 Struggled lang an' sair wi' a reeshlin' pock ; 
 I nickit him tho', at the hinder-end, 
 Wi' the thirty croons that he couldna spend.* 
 
 (* He 'd lots o' heirs,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * But willin' an' keen they come half roads noo,' 
 
 (' Saul ! in fair big croods,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 ' An' the backward anes are baith far an' few.' 
 (* Curse your platitudes,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
THE DEIL AN' THE DEEVILOCK 87 
 
 * They crack roon' the fire, an' are nae mair blate 
 Than a bonnet laird wi' a new estate ; 
 
 Their hands playin' smack on their birslin' shins 
 As they lauch an' brag o* their former sins.* 
 (' Hame 's aye hame-Hke,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * An' you, ye 're the warst o' my horny crew * ; 
 
 (* I 'm sorry I spak',' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * Nae an' antrin jot leavin' me to do.' 
 
 (' An' I aye blush black,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * For a hungry chiel ye 've an open gate, 
 Help the elder pooch fae his ain kirk plate ; 
 Nae a leein' man nor a faithless dame 
 
 But is coontin' kin, when they hear your name.* 
 (' I 'm " Canny-chance," ' quo' the Deevilock. 
 
 * Wi' the ministers ye are mair than thrang,' 
 
 (' Took a Sunday twice,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 ' Aye giein' them texts to support a wrang.' 
 (' Guid halesome advice,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * When in Auchterless ye suggest the prayer — 
 ** Show my duty. Lord, lies in Auchtermair " ; 
 An' when stipens shrink wi' the fa' in fiars, 
 Siccan sizzons ban as ye mix your tears.' 
 
 (' We 're a' ae claith,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
THE DEIL AN' THE DEEVILOCK 
 
 ' Ye hae even dealt amo' stocks an' shares,' 
 (' Selled some to arrive,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * An' made likely men into millionaires.' 
 
 (' Hoot, our bairns maun thrive,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * Ye startit a war, an' to raise a loan 
 
 Showed a spen'thrift king how to wadset 's throne ; 
 An' raikit them in fae the bench an' cell, 
 Till the Fact'ry Act is in bits in Hell.' 
 
 (' Nae half-time there,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 ' Nae a pleasant thing hae ye left aneth,* 
 
 (' There 's the company,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
 * An' a weary Deil canna look for death.' 
 
 (' Here 's lang Hfe to me,' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 ' It 's Hell to hae naething to do but sit 
 An' curse at the creak o' the birlin' spit ; 
 I 'm red, red wi' rust, save the jinglin' keys, 
 I 'd swap wi' a god wha is fond o' ease.' 
 
 (' Ha ! ha !— ha ! ha ! ' quo' the Deevilock.) 
 
A BACKCAST 
 
 How lanely the nichts by the auld ingle cheek, 
 Ohone, but a mither is nae like a wife, 
 
 Regret on the creepie sits watchin' the reek, 
 An' whaur are the bairnies to comfort my life ? 
 
 The backcast is dreary o'er years that are spent, 
 The rowan is withered, an' leafless the gean, 
 
 They 're gane noo for ever, but, eh ! had I kent. 
 Grim winter is reignin' where summer was queen. 
 
 I dammed for the lade that had never a wheel, 
 The chickens were honnie but noo they 're awa\ 
 
 The castles I biggit gie other folk biel'. 
 O wae tak' the gled that gaed aff wi' them a\ 
 
 A lassie proved fickle, unfaithfu' a frien', 
 Tho' soorocks an' tansies grow green in the ha\ 
 
 An' a mither is a' I hae left o' my ain. 
 The ivy sae kindly aye covers the wa\ 
 
THE LAWIN' 
 
 The way o' transgressors is hard ; 
 
 There cometh a day 
 The Wicked will get their reward, 
 
 The Devil his pay. 
 
 Cauld Death is the wages o' Sin : 
 Stents finished, we rue : 
 
 The thread, tho' sae pleasant to spin, 
 Has connached the woo'. 
 
 As soon as we 've emptied the caiip 
 The lawin 's to clear ; 
 
 The' thistles be only the crap 
 
 The sawer maun shear. 
 
 Sae let us consider it weel 
 
 Ere joinin' the fling, 
 
 The dancer when tired o' the reel 
 
 Maun pay for the spring. 
 
THE LAWIN' 91 
 
 Then coont on the Lawin', the Lawin\ the Lawin', 
 Keep mind 0' the Lawin', forget 7ta the score ; 
 
 We pay what we We awin\ we We awin\ we 're awin', 
 We pay a' we 're awin' when Death 's at the door. 
 
THE GYPSY 
 
 O WASNA he bauld for a tinker loon, — 
 Sim leant on his rake an' swore — 
 
 To fling a' his wallets an' bawd-skins doon, 
 An' rap at the castle door. 
 
 Wi' my Lord awa' at the Corbie's linn 
 
 There was man nor dog at hame, 
 Save a toothless bitch 'at was auld an' blin', 
 
 An' the gard'ner auld an' lame. 
 
 When my Lady heard she cam' doon the stair, 
 
 An' ben thro' the antlered ha', 
 Whaur, bonnet in hand, stood the gypsy there 
 
 As raggit as she was braw. 
 
 * O I hinna kettles to clout,' she said, 
 * An' my spoons an' stoups are hale. 
 
 But gin ye gang roon' to the kitchen maid 
 She '11 gie ye a waucht o' ale.' 
 
THE GYPSY 93 
 
 * It 's never the way o' the gentry, na, 
 
 When visitin' 'mang their frien's, 
 To drink wi' the maids in the servants' ha* 
 Or speak about stoups an' speens. 
 
 ' An' we are mair sib than ye think,' quo' he, 
 ' For his Lordship's father 's mine ; 
 
 Tho' the second wife was o' high degree, 
 His first was a gypsy queyn. 
 
 * An' the younger son got the lands an' a', 
 
 But the gypsies bettered me ; 
 He is only laird o' a fairm or twa, 
 I 'm king o' the covin-tree. 
 
 * Sae I am guid-brither to you, my lass, 
 
 An' head o' the auncient name ; 
 An' it wouldna be richt for me to pass 
 Withoot cryin' in by hame.' 
 
 O a hantle then did the twasome say, 
 
 An' muckle passed them between ; 
 But at last 'twas ' Sister, a fair good day,' 
 
 * Guid-brither, a fair good e'en.* 
 
Aa' Wi Art ir\w^ ci}> -(kan v'£ ^A'lnk ' ^uo'As. 
 
THE GYPSY 95 
 
 * My Lord comes hamefae the hunti'n' soon, 
 
 An' he 's big, weel-faured, an' braw, 
 But he isna a man like the tinker loon, 
 Wi' wallets an' rags an a' .' 
 
 * Gin she were as free as the maids I ken, 
 
 Dancin' bar' fit on the green ; 
 As I am the King o' the gypsy men. 
 This nicht she would be my Queen* 
 
 But the bluid ran thin in the gard'ner Sim, 
 
 He 'd heard o' the cairds afore, 
 An' the auld romance had nae charms for him, 
 
 He lockit the hen-hoose door. 
 
"0,Ktr C'Cn Wttc Wi^\\V 
 
 *BYDAND' 
 
 There 's a yellow thread in the Gordon plaid, 
 But it binds na my love an' me ; 
 
 And the ivy leaf has brought dool and grief 
 Where there never but love should be. 
 
' BYDAND ' 97 
 
 For my lad would 'list : when a Duchess kiss't 
 
 He forgot a' the vows he made ; 
 And he turned and took but ae lang, last look, 
 
 When the ' Cock o' the North ' was played. 
 
 O, her een were bright, an' her teeth were white 
 
 As the silver they held between ; 
 But the lips he pree'd, were they half as sweet 
 
 As he vow'd 'at mine were yestreen ? 
 
 A poor country lass, 'mang the dewy grass, 
 May hae whiles to kilt up her goon ; 
 
 But a lady hie sae to show her knee, 
 And to dance in a boro' toon ! 
 
 Gin I were the Duke, I could nae mair look 
 Wi' love on my high-born dame ; 
 
 At a kilt or plaid I would hang my head. 
 And think aye on my lady's shame. 
 
 G 
 
98 
 
 * BYDAND ' 
 
 By my leefu' lane I sit morn an' e'en, 
 Prayin' aye for him back to me ; 
 
 For now he 's awa* I forgie him a' 
 Save the kiss he was 'Hsted wi'. 
 
 J^ nw kth' i^t^E. I s'lf /nofn An i'zn 
 
THE OUTLAW'S LASS 
 
 Duncan 's lyin' on the cauld hillside, 
 
 Donal 's swingin' on the hangman' s yew : 
 
 Black be the fa' <?' the sergeant's bride 
 
 Wha broke twa troths to keep ae tryst true. 
 
 The red-coats march at the skreek o' day, 
 An' we maun lie on the brae the night ; 
 
 Then here 's to them safely on their way, 
 Speed to the mirk brings the mornin's fight. 
 
 Here 's luck to me if you chance to fa', 
 An' here 's to luck if it favours you ; 
 
 For she 's but ane, an' o' us there 's twa, 
 To him that 's left may she yet prove true. 
 
 In days to come, when the reivers ride, 
 
 They '11 miss ae sword that was swift an' keen, 
 
 An' you or I, as the Fates decide, 
 Will curse the glint o' a woman's een. 
 
100 THE OUTLAW'S LASS 
 
 A parting cHp, we will drink it noo, 
 
 Syne break the quaich to a shattered faith ; 
 
 Here 's happiness to the lass we lo'e, 
 The lying lass wha deceived us baith. 
 
 The soldiers drink in the change-house free^ 
 The tinker 's clinkin' a crackit quaich ; 
 
 But cuddlin' there on the sergeant's knee 
 Wha is the lass that is lauchin' laich ? 
 
* Il^l^^, Ijih^ is Mt McIw^M'^hH 
 
 CHARON'S SONG 
 
 Another boat-load for the Further Shore, 
 
 Heap them up high in the stern ; 
 Nae ane o* them ever has crossed before 
 An' never a ane '11 return. 
 
 Heavy it rides sae full, sae full, 
 
 Deep, deep is the River, 
 But light, light is the backward pull, 
 The River flows silently on. 
 
102 CHARON'S SONG 
 
 A cargo o' corps that are cauld I trow — 
 They 're grippy that grudge the fare — 
 An' the antrin quick wi' his golden bough 
 That 's swappin' the Here for There. 
 Heavy it rides sae full, sae full, 
 
 Slow, slow is the River, 
 But light, light is the backward pull. 
 The River flows silently on. 
 
 In vain will they look wha seek for a ford, 
 
 Where the reeds grow lank an' lang : 
 This is the ferry, an' I am the lord 
 An' king o' the boat an' stang. 
 
 Heavy it rides sae full, sae full, 
 
 Black, black is the River, 
 But light, light is the backward pull. 
 The River, my River, flows on. 
 
VIRGIL IN SCOTS 
 
 /ENEID, BOOK III. 588-64O 
 
 Neist mornin* at the skreek o' day 
 
 The mist had newHns lifted ; 
 The sky, a whylock syne sae grey, 
 
 To fleckit red had shifted : 
 When suddenly our herts gaed thud 
 
 To see a fremt chiel stalkin', 
 Wi' timorous steps fae out the wud, 
 
 As fleyed-like as a mawkin. 
 Lod ! sic a sicht, half hid in glaur, 
 
 It made us a' feel wae, man ; 
 His hams were thin, his kyte was waur, 
 
 It hung sae toom that day, man. 
 His mattit beard was lang an' roch 's 
 
 Gin it had ne'er been shorn ; 
 His kilt could barely fend his houghs 
 
 Fae stobs, it was sae torn. 
 A Greek was he, wha short afore 
 
 At Troy was in the brulzie. 
 An' tho' a halflin then, he bore 
 
 A man's pairt in the tulzie. 
 
104 VIRGIL IN SCOTS 
 
 As soon 's he spied our Trojan graith 
 
 He nearhan' swarfed wi' fear ; 
 But maisterin' his dread o' skaith 
 
 At last he ventured near. 
 * I charge you by the stars,' he cried, 
 
 ' And by the powers on high, 
 To snatch me hence, nor lat me bide 
 
 At Cyclops' hands to die. 
 I '11 no deny that I 'm a Greek, 
 
 Or that I was at Troy ; 
 Nor yet to hide the part, I '11 seek, 
 
 That I took in the ploy. 
 Sae gin ye judge my fau't sae sair 
 
 That grace ye daurna gie. 
 Tear me to bits, fient haet I care, 
 
 And sink me in the sea. 
 I '11 meet my death without a wird, 
 
 If dealt by men like these,' 
 He said : syne flang him on the yird, 
 
 An' glammoched at our knees. 
 Wi' kindly mint we stilled his fear, 
 
 Enquired his name an' clan, 
 An' what fell bluffert blew him here 
 
 Wi' sic a hertless flan. 
 
VIRGIL IN SCOTS 105 
 
 To set him further at his ease 
 
 Anchises gae him 's han', 
 An' heartened by our kindliness 
 
 The chiel at last began : 
 * My name is Achaemenides, 
 
 An' Ithaca my land ; 
 An' some ooks syne I crossed the seas 
 
 Wi' poor Ulysses' band. 
 Oh, why left ever I my hame ? 
 
 I *d troubles there enew ; 
 My comrades left me, to their shame, 
 
 When fae Cyclops they flew. 
 Cyclops himsel', wha can describe ? 
 
 The stars are ells below him ; 
 Gude send we ne'er may hae to bide 
 
 Within a parish o' him. 
 His dungeon large, a hauddin* fit 
 
 For sic an awsome gleed ; 
 There at his fae's dregies he '11 sit 
 
 And spairge aboot their bleed. 
 Wi' horrid scouk he frowns on a* 
 
 An' heedless o' their skraichs, 
 He sweels their monyfaulds awa' 
 
 Wi' wauchts fae gory quaichs. 
 
io6 VIRGIL IN SCOTS 
 
 I saw him, sirs, as sure 's I live, 
 
 Ance as he lay at easedom, 
 Twa buirdly chiels tak' in his neive, 
 
 Syne careless fae him heeze them. 
 They fell wi' sic a dreadfu' thud, 
 
 Whaur stanes lay roun' in cairns ; 
 The causey ran wi' thickened blood 
 
 Like stoorum made wi' harns. 
 I watched him tak' their limbs an' cram 
 
 Them ower his weel-raxed thrapple ; 
 The life scarce left the quivering ham 
 
 That shivered in his grapple. 
 But never was Ulysses slack 
 
 To pay where he was awin'. 
 An' starkly did he gie him 't back, 
 
 An' bravely cleared the lawin'. 
 For while the hoven monster snored, 
 
 An' rifted in his dreams. 
 We first the great God's help implored 
 
 An' blessing on our schemes ; 
 The kavils cuist : a feerious thrang 
 
 Syne gaithered roond aboot. 
 An' wi' a sturdy pointed stang 
 
 We bored his ae e'e oot.' 
 
'/lat. scnsi. 2.n stt ^At^reybiafA ooi * 
 
 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR. I. I I 
 
 Tu ne quaesieris 
 
 Ye needna speer, Catriona, nae spaewife yet could tell 
 Hoo short or lang for you an' me the tack o' life will 
 rin, 
 We '11 better jist dree cot the span as we hae dane the ell, 
 Content gin mony towmonds still we 're left to store the 
 kin, 
 
io8 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 Or this the last we '11 see the rocks tashed wi' the weary seas ; 
 
 Hae sense an' set the greybeard oot ; wi' life sae short for a' 
 
 They 're daft that plan ae ook ahead ; Time keeks asklent 
 
 an' flees 
 
 E'en as we crack ; the nicht is oors, the morn may never 
 
 daw. 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR I. 38 
 Persicos odi 
 
 Foreign fashions, lad, allure you, 
 Hamespun happit I would be ; 
 
 Bring nae mair, for I assure you 
 Ferlies only scunner me. 
 
 Fancy tartans, clanless, gaudy, 
 Mention them nae mair, I say ; 
 
 Best it suits your service, laddie, 
 An' my drinkin', hodden-grey. 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR. II. lO 
 Reciius vives 
 
 Tempt not the far oonchancie main, 
 
 Nor fearin' blufferts, frien', 
 Creep roon' fause headlan's ; baud your ain 
 
 Tack fair atween. 
 
 The gowden mids, wha aims at it 
 
 Will shun the tinker's lair, 
 Nor gantin' in a castle sit 
 
 Whaur flunkeys stare. 
 
 The heichest fir storms aft'nest bow ; 
 
 Lums fa' wi' sairest dunt ; 
 When lightnings rive, bauld Morven's pow 
 
 Drees aye the brunt. 
 
 Come weel, come wae, wi' hope or fear 
 
 Prepare your heart for a' ; 
 The same Power sends the rain will clear 
 
 The cloods awa'. 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 III 
 
 Tho' here the day ye 've waes galore 
 The morn may see them gone ; 
 
 Fate whiles lays by the dour claymore 
 An' tunes the drone. 
 
 Its 2,z ^'s sd ' 
 
112 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 In trouble bauldly bear yoursel' ; 
 
 When thrivin', mind the fret — 
 * Tho' lang the pig gangs to the well, 
 
 It 's ae day's set.' 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR. III. 9 
 Donee grains eram 
 
 HAIRRY 
 
 * When Leebie lo'ed me ower them a', 
 An' deil a dearer daured to fling 
 
 An airm aboot her neck o' snaw, 
 I struttit crouser than the king.' 
 
 LEEBIE 
 
 ' When I was Hairry's only care, 
 Afore he lo'ed me less than Jean, 
 
 Wha spak' o' love at kirk or fair 
 Set Leebie aye aboon the queen.* 
 
 HAIRRY 
 
 ' Noo Hielan' Jean has witched me sae, 
 She harps an' sings wi' siccan skill, 
 
 Cauld Death can streek me on the strae 
 Gin he but spare my marrow still.* 
 
 H 
 
114 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 LEEBIE 
 
 * For Colin dear, my heart 's alowe 
 As his for me, Glen Nochty's heir, 
 
 Fate twice at me may shak' his pow 
 Gin he will still my laddie spare.' 
 
 I'A JoVL 'An' live ^A dtt, wi'yow 
 
 HAIRRY 
 
 * Gin tinker Love wi' clinks o' brass 
 Bind baith oor hearts, an' I forget 
 
 Red-headit Jean, an' you my lass — 
 Lang left — again see wide the yett ? ' 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 115 
 
 LEEBIE 
 
 * Tho' steady as a starn is he, 
 
 An' you 're like bobbin' cork, it 's true, 
 
 Wi' temper grumlie as the sea, 
 I 'd love an' live an' dee wi' you.' 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR. III. 15 
 
 Uxor pauperis Ibyci 
 
 KiRSTY, ye besom ! auld an' grey, 
 Peer Sandy's wrunkled kimmer, 
 
 Death *s at your elbuck, cease to play 
 Baith hame an' furth the Hmmer. 
 
 Ongauns Hke yours lads weel may fleg 
 
 Fae lasses a'theglther ; 
 Tibbie may fling a wanton leg 
 
 Would ill set you her mither. 
 
 She Anra's bothy sneck may tirl 
 An' loup like ony filly ; 
 
 Love stirs her as the pipers* skirl 
 Some kiltit Hielan' billie. 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 Nane pledge or bring you posies noo ; 
 
 Auld wives nae trumps set strummin', 
 For runts like you the Cabrach woo' — 
 
 It 's time your wheel was bummin*. 
 
 "7 
 
 Siindy'i wvwnKle.^ i'\in\n\s.r 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 CAR. III. 26 
 Vixi puellis 
 
 0' LIFE an' love I 'm by wi' a', 
 
 Tho' I 've had cause o' baith to brag ; 
 
 Hang dirk an' chanter on the wa', 
 
 Nae mair I '11 reive or squeeze the bag. 
 
 Whaur on the left my lantren gleams 
 Weel gairdit by the sea-born queen, 
 
 I lay my love an' war worn leems, 
 Hae mony a midnicht tulzie seen. 
 
 O Venus, fae your island fair 
 
 Wi' snawless mountains, hear an' help, 
 Rax back your rung, an' ance — nae mair- 
 
 Gie saucy Meg a canny skelp. 
 

 
 
 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 EPOD. II. 
 
 Be at us ille 
 
 Happy is he, far fae the toon's alairm 
 
 Wha wons contentit on his forbears' fairm ; 
 
 WhistHn' ahint his owsen at the ploo, 
 
 Gonfashed wi' siller lent or int'rest due. 
 
 Nae sodger he, that 's piped to wark an' meat, 
 
 Nae bar'fit sailor, fleyed at wind an' weet, 
 
 Schoolboard nor Session tempt him fae his hame, 
 
 Provost or Baillie never heard his name ; 
 
 His business 'tis to sned the larick trees 
 
 For lichened hag to stake his early peas, 
 
120 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 Or on his plaid amang the braes to lie 
 
 Herdin' his sleekit stots an' hummel kye, 
 
 Here wi' his whittle nick a sooker saft, 
 
 There mark a stooter shank for future graft ; 
 
 Whiles fae a skep a dreepin' comb he steals, 
 
 Or clips the doddit yowes for winter wheels. 
 
 When ower the crafts blythe Autumn lifts her 
 
 head 
 Buskit wi' aipples ripe an' roddens red, 
 He speels the trees the hazel nits to pu', 
 An' rasps an' aivrins fill his bonnet fu', — 
 Fit gifts awat, for gods o' wood an' yaird 
 To show the gratefu' husbandman's regaird. 
 Ah, then 'tis pleasant on saft mossy banks 
 'Neath auncient aiks to ease his wearied shanks, 
 Whaur hidden burnies rumblin' onwards row. 
 An' liltin' linties cheer the peacefu' howe, 
 An' babblin' springs, as thro' the ferns they creep 
 Wi' ceaseless croonin' lull to gentle sleep. 
 When stormy winter comes an' in its train 
 Brings drivin' drift an' spates o' plashin' rain, 
 Wi' dog an' ferret then he 's roon' the parks 
 Whaur rabbits in the snaw hae left their marks ; 
 Or brings wi' smorin' sulphur thuddin' doon 
 The roostin' pheasant fae the boughs aboon, 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 121 
 
 Or daunders furth wi' girn an' gun to kill 
 
 White hares an' ptarmigan upon the hill. 
 
 Wha mid sic joys would ever stop to fash 
 
 Wi' trystin' queyns, their valinteens an' trash ? 
 
 But gin a sonsy wife be his, she '11 help 
 
 Wi' household jots, the weans she '11 dead an' 
 
 skelp, 
 An' — Buchan kimmers ken the way fu' weel 
 Or Hielan' hizzies — tenty toom the creel 
 O' lang hained heath'ry truffs to reist the fire 
 Against her man's return, fair dead wi' tire, 
 An' byre-ward clatter in her creeshie brogues 
 To fill wi' foamin' milk the scrubbit cogues, 
 Syne fae the press the cakes an' kebbuck draw 
 An' hame-brewed drink nae gauger ever saw — 
 Plain simple fare ; could partans better please 
 Or skate or turbot fae the furthest seas, 
 Brocht to the market by the trawler's airt 
 Hawkit fae barrows or the cadger's cairt ? 
 Nae frozen dainties, nae importit meat, 
 Nae foreign galshochs, taste they e'er sae sweet, 
 But I will match them fast as ye can name 
 Wi' simple berries that we grow at hame — 
 Wi' burnside soorocks that ye pu' yoursel', 
 Wi' buttered brose, an' chappit curly kail, 
 
122 HORACE IN SCOTS 
 
 Wi' mealy puddins fae the new killed Mart, 
 Or hill-fed braxy that the tod has spar'd. 
 What happier life than this for young or auld ? 
 To see the blackfaced wethers seek the fauld, 
 
 " %<: rvchY ht's cistin' Ai's ^ccoor\\s ag^m " 
 
 The reekin* owsen fae the fur' set free 
 Wear slowly hamewith ower the gowan'd lea, 
 An' gabbin' servants fae the field an' byre 
 Scorchin' their moleskins at the kitchen fire. 
 
HORACE IN SCOTS 123 
 
 The hanker swore 'mid siccan scenes to die, 
 * Back to the land ' was daily his refrain ; 
 
 A fortnicht syne he laid his ledgers by, 
 The nicht he 's castin' his accoonts again / 
 
THE REMONSTRANCE 
 
 Noo man, hoo can ye think it richt 
 To waste your time, nicht after nicht, 
 An' hunker in the faihn' Hcht 
 
 Wi' moody broo, 
 Like some puir dwinin' thewless wicht 
 
 Wi' death in view ? 
 
 I *ve taul' ye aft aneuch it 's nae 
 As if ye 'd aught 'at 's new to say, 
 Or said auld things some better way, 
 
 Or like some callants 
 Gat fouk to praise your sangs an' pay 
 
 Ye for your ballants. 
 
 Instead o' vreetin' like a clerk 
 Till bed-time brings alang the dark. 
 Ye should be sportin' in the park 
 
 An' hear the clamour 
 Wad greet ye, should ye pass my mark 
 
 Wi' stane or hammer. 
 

 t \y ! 
 
 m 
 
 
 *tioo n\a«\./\oo can j/c, jAmk i^ ocK»- ? 
 
126 THE REMONSTRANCE 
 
 Or tak' a daunder roon' the braes 
 An' hear the blackies pipe their lays, 
 The Hftward laverock's sang o' praise, 
 
 An' syne, my billie, 
 Mak' nae mair verses a' your days — 
 
 Shut doon your millie. 
 
THE REPLY 
 
 Tho' loud the mavis whistles now 
 An' blackbirds pipe fae ilka bough 
 An' laverocks set the heart alowe — 
 
 Mid a' the plenty 
 You 'd miss upon the wayside cowe 
 
 The twitt'rin* lintie. 
 
 An' think you, when the simmer 's gane, 
 When sleet blaws thro' the leafless plane, 
 An' bieldless birds sit mute an' lane, 
 
 The woods a' cheerless, 
 The hamely robin on the stane 
 
 Sings sweet an' fearless. 
 
 So tho* my sangs be as you say 
 Nae marrow for the blackbird's lay, 
 They may hae cheered somebody's way 
 
 Wha wanted better, 
 An' sent him happier up the brae 
 
 My welcome debtor. 
 
128 THE REPLY 
 
 Nae care hae I, nor wish to sped 
 Parnassus' knowe, for mony a chiel 
 Has tint his time, his life as weel, 
 
 To claim a bit o 't : 
 I only crave a wee bit biel' 
 
 Near han' the fit o 't 
 
SCOTLAND OUR MITHER 
 
 Scotland our Mither — this from your sons abroad, 
 Leavin' tracks on virgin veld that never kent a road, 
 Trekkin' on wi' weary feet, an' faces turned fae hame, 
 But lovin' aye the auld wife across the seas the same. 
 
 Scotland our Mither — we left your bieldy bents 
 
 To hunt wi' hairy Esau, while Jacob kept the tents. 
 
 We 've pree'd the pangs o' hunger, mair sorrow seen than 
 
 mirth, 
 But never niffer'd, auld wife, our rightfu' pride o' birth. 
 
 Scotland our Mither — we sow, we plant, we till, 
 
 But plagues that passed o'er Egypt light here an' work 
 
 their will. 
 They 've harried barn an' basket till ruin claims us sure ; 
 We 'd better kept the auld craft an' herdit on the muir. 
 
 Scotland our Mither — we weary whiles and tire ; 
 When Bad Luck helps to outspan. Regret biggs up the fire ; 
 But still the hope uphaulds us, tho' bitter now the blast. 
 That we '11 win to the auld hame across the seas at last. 
 
 I 
 
130 SCOTLAND OUR MITHER 
 
 Scotland our Mither — we 've bairns you 've never seen — 
 Wee things that turn them northward when they kneel 
 
 down at e'en ; 
 They plead in childish whispers the Lord on high will be 
 A comfort to the auld wife — their granny o'er the sea. 
 
 Scotland our Mither — since first we left your side, 
 
 From Quilimane to Cape Town we 've wandered far an' 
 
 wide ; 
 Yet aye from mining camp an' town, from koppie an' karoo, 
 Your sons richt kindly, auld wife, send hame their love to 
 
 you. 
 
S£n4 l\2M.s. ^l\i)f Jovi fo yot*. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Ahlach^ insignificant person. 
 
 Aivrins, cloudberry. 
 
 AJee, to one side. 
 
 Atttrin^ occasional. 
 
 Aries, earnest given in striking a 
 
 bargain. 
 Asklent, askance. 
 Awat, I wot. 
 A win', owing. 
 
 Bat/h'e, alderman ; bailUe {wafer), 
 bailiff; baillie (in the byre\ cattle- 
 man. 
 
 Ballants, ballads. 
 
 Bane, bone. 
 
 Banster, one who binds the sheaves. 
 
 Barkit, encrusted with dirt. 
 
 Bauldrins, cat. 
 
 Bawd, hare. 
 
 Beet to, had to. 
 
 Beets, boots. 
 
 Begood, began. 
 
 Bents, hilly ground on which coarse 
 grass grows. 
 
 Besom shaft, broom handle. 
 
 Bield, shelter. 
 
 Bit^gin\ building. 
 
 Bike, hive. 
 
 Birk, birch. 
 
 Birlin', whirring. 
 
 Birn, burden. 
 
 Birr, whirr. 
 
 Birse, bristles. 
 
 Birselt, birslin\ scorched, scorching. 
 
 Bishop, to beat down earth or stones. 
 
 Blate, bashful. 
 
 Bluffert, blast of wind. 
 
 Bonnet-laird, yeoman. 
 
 Bool, bowl, marble. 
 
 Boss, hollow. 
 
 Bothy, cottage where farm servants 
 are lodged. 
 
 Bourtree, elder. 
 
 Braxy, sheep that has died a natural 
 death. 
 
 Break, hollow in a hill. 
 
 Breet, brute. 
 
 Brochan, oatmeal boiled thicker than 
 gruel. 
 
 Brulzie, brawl. 
 
 *■ Buchan,' Buchan's ' Domestic Medi- 
 cine.' 
 
 Buirdly, stalwart. 
 
 But-ari-ben, cottage divided into two 
 apartments. 
 
 Byous, exceedingly, out of the com- 
 mon. 
 
 Cadger, hawker. 
 Caird, travelling tinker. 
 Cairtiti', playing cards. 
 Caller, cool, refreshing. 
 Cannas, canvas. 
 Canny, safe, prudent, judicious. 
 Cantrip, mischievous trick. 
 Carlie, little old man. 
 Cauldrife, causing the sensation of 
 cold. 
 
 12 
 
134 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Caup, turned wooden bowl. 
 
 Cauper, maker of caups, wood-turner. 
 
 Caur, calves. 
 
 Causey, causeway. 
 
 Caw, to drive. 
 
 Chappin\ knocking. 
 
 Chappity struck (the clock ' chappit ') ; 
 
 chappit kail, mashed or bruised 
 
 colewort. 
 Chauniers, chambers. 
 Clachan, hamlet. 
 Claik, gossip. 
 Clash, gossip. 
 Clawed the caup, cleaned the dish. 
 
 As a punishment the person last to 
 
 get up in the morning had to clean 
 
 the common bowl. 
 Cleaditi, clothing. 
 Cleekit shall, pony suffering from 
 
 string-halt. 
 Clinkin\ mending by riveting. 
 Clockiri, brooding. 
 Clorty, dirty, sticky. 
 Closs, enclosure, passage. 
 Cloutie, small cloth. 
 Clouts, mends, patches. 
 Cogue, wooden milking pail. 
 Connached, abused, wasted, destroyed. 
 Coof, coward. 
 Core, company, corps. 
 Corp, corpse. 
 Coup, to exchange. 
 Couthy, affable, kindly. 
 Covin-tree, trysting-tree, large tree in 
 
 front of the mansion house where 
 
 visitors were received. 
 Cowe, twig of a shrub or bush. 
 Cowshus, cautious. 
 Cowt, colt. 
 Crack, to chat. 
 Craft, small farm. 
 Craggins, jars. 
 Creel, basket. 
 Creepie, low stool. 
 Creesh, fat, grease. 
 
 Crouse, brisk, lively, bold. 
 
 Crowd}', meal and water mixed cold. 
 
 Cruisie, ancient oil lamp. 
 
 Cuist, cast, threw. 
 
 Cuitikins, gaiters. 
 
 Cushie doo, wood pigeon. 
 
 Dambrod, draught board. 
 
 Daundrin\ strolling. 
 
 Daw, dawn. 
 
 Dibble, to plant in a small hole. 
 
 Dicht, to clean, to wipe up. 
 
 Ding, to overcome, to excel. 
 
 Dirl, tingle. 
 
 Dirlin\ vibrating. 
 
 Displenish, to disfurnish, sale of fur- 
 niture of any sort. 
 
 Divot, turf. 
 
 Doddit, without horns. 
 
 Doit, a small copper coin. 
 
 Dool, woe. 
 
 Dozin, in a benumbed state. 
 
 Dreep, drip, empty to the last drop. 
 
 Z>r^^z>, refreshment given at a funeral. 
 
 Drift, driving or driven snow. 
 
 Drooth, drought, thirst. 
 
 Dryster, man who dries the grain 
 before grinding. 
 
 Dubs, dubby, mud, muddy. 
 
 Dunt, bang, sound caused by the fall 
 of a hard body. 
 
 Dwinin', pining. 
 
 Easin\ eaves. 
 Eident, diligent 
 Eild, old age. 
 Elbuck, elbow. 
 Ell-wan\ yardstick. 
 Elshin, shoemaker's awl. 
 Ettliri, aiming. 
 
 Excamb, to exchange one piece of 
 ground for another. 
 
 Fa\ fall, fate (black be his fa'). 
 Fae, from. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 135 
 
 Faes^ foes. 
 
 Faugh, fallow land, 'Farmers faugh 
 
 gars lairds lauch'— old Scottish 
 
 proverb. 
 Fauld, fold. 
 Faured, favoured. 
 Feal dyke, wall built of sods. 
 Fell, kill, deadly. 
 Ferlie, oddity, wonder. 
 Fiars, prices of grain legally fixed for 
 
 the year. 
 Fient, fient haet, not a bit, the Devil 
 
 a bit. 
 Fiersday, Thursday. 
 Firehoose, dwelling house. 
 Firry, resinous. 
 Fittit, footed. 
 Flaffiti, flapping. 
 Flan, gust of wind. 
 Flate, scolded. 
 Fleech, flatter. 
 Fleems, fleam, lancet. 
 Fleerish, flint and, flint and steel. 
 Fleg, frighten. 
 Fleyed, frightened. 
 Flyte, scold. 
 Forcnicht, interval between twilight 
 
 and bedtime. 
 Forfochen, exhausted. 
 Fou, stone crop, saxifrage. 
 Fremt, strange, foreign. 
 Fret, superstition. 
 Futfrat, weasel. 
 Fyou, few. 
 
 Gaberlunzie, beggar. 
 
 Gale, gable. 
 
 Galshochs, kickshaws. 
 
 Gangrel, wanderer. 
 
 Gantiti, yawning. 
 
 Gean, cherry. 
 
 Gey, gey a/ten, considerably, pretty 
 
 often. 
 Gun, snare. 
 Girtial, meal chest. 
 
 Girse, grass. 
 
 Gizzened, parched. 
 
 Glanunoch, eager grasp. 
 
 Glaur, mire. 
 
 Gled, gleed, kite. 
 
 GoupirC, staring. 
 
 Graith, accoutrements, harness. 
 
 Grat, greetin\ cried, crying. 
 
 Grauvit, cravat. 
 
 Grease, disease affecting horses' legs. 
 
 Greybeard, earthenware bottle. 
 
 Grieve, farm overseer. 
 
 Grippy, stingy. 
 
 Griimlie, grumbling. 
 
 Guff, smell. 
 
 * Giveed words,' prayers. 
 
 Hacks, chaps, the effect of severe cold. 
 
 Hag, lesser branches of trees. 
 
 Hained, saved, not wasted. 
 
 Halflin, half-grown man. 
 
 Hame-drauchted, selfish, greedy. 
 
 Hamewith, homewards. 
 
 Hanks, skeins. 
 
 Hajitle, much. 
 
 Happit, covered. 
 
 Harlin\ rough casting. 
 
 Hams, brains. 
 
 Harp (a mason's), wire screen for 
 
 cleaning sand or gravel. 
 Hauddin', holding, house. 
 Haugh, alluvial ground beside a river. 
 Hauld, stronghold. 
 Heeze, heave. 
 Hine awa', far away. 
 Hingin', hanging. 
 Hint 0' Hairst, end of harvest. 
 Hoast, cough. 
 Hod, hid. 
 Hodden grey, cloth the natural colour 
 
 of the wool. 
 Horn-en', best room in a two-roomed 
 
 cottage. 
 Houkin', digging. 
 Hoven, swollen, blown out 
 
1.^.6 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Howe, hollow, valley. 
 Hummel, without horns. 
 Hunker, to squat down. 
 
 Income, ailment the cause of which 
 is unknown. 
 
 Jaud, jade. 
 
 Jow, toll of a bell. 
 
 Jot^ job, occasional work. 
 
 Kail, cole wort. 
 Kavils, lots. 
 Kebbuck, cheese. 
 Keel, ruddle, chalk. 
 Kimmer, wife. 
 Kintra, country. 
 Kirn, churn. 
 Kist, box, coffin. 
 Kittyneddie, sandpiper. 
 Kye, cows. 
 Kyte, belly. 
 
 Lade, mill race. 
 
 Laich, low. 
 
 Lair, burying plot, bed. 
 
 Laith, loath. 
 
 Lampin, taking long steps. 
 
 Lane, alone ; his lane, by himself. 
 
 Lapbuird, lapboard. 
 
 Lapstane, stone on which a shoe- 
 maker beats his leather. 
 
 Larick, larch. 
 
 Lave, the rest, the remainder. 
 
 Lay {turning), lathe. 
 
 Leefu^ lane, all alone. 
 
 Leems, implements. 
 
 Lettergae, one who gives out the line, 
 the precentor. 
 
 Lettrin, precentor's desk. 
 
 Leuch, laughed. 
 
 Liftward, skywards. 
 
 Limmer, worthless woman. 
 
 Lint-pot, pool where lint is washed. 
 
 Lippens, entrusts. 
 
 Loan, loaniti, piece of uncultivated 
 
 land about a homestead. 
 Loupin\ leaping. 
 Lowse, make loose. 
 Lozen, pane of glass. 
 Lum, chimney. 
 Lythe, shelter, lea side. 
 
 Marrow, match, equal. 
 
 Mart, ox killed at Martinmas for 
 
 winter use. 
 Mawkin, hare. 
 Mear, mare. 
 Mint, aim, intention. 
 Mirk, darkness. 
 Mith, might. 
 Moggins, boot hose. 
 Monyfaulds, entrails, the part which 
 
 consists of many folds. 
 Moss, moor where peats are dug. 
 Mou\ mouth. 
 Moulter, multure. 
 Mouter, multure, miller's fee. 
 Mull, snuff tiiull, box, snuffbox. 
 Mutch, head-dress for a woman. 
 Mutchkin, liquid measure. 
 
 Nearhan\ nearly. 
 
 Neeps, turnips. 
 
 Neive, fisL 
 
 Newlins, newly. 
 
 Nick, notch. 
 
 Nickum, mischievous boy. 
 
 Niffcr, to barter. 
 
 Nott, needed, required. 
 
 Nowt, nolt, neat cattle. 
 
 Overcome, burden. 
 Oes, grand-children. 
 Ongauns, goings-on. 
 Ooks, ouks, weeks. 
 Oonchancie, uncanny. 
 Oonf ashed, untroubled. 
 Oxter, arm-pit 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 137 
 
 Panged^ crammed. 
 
 Parian, common sea crab. 
 
 Pass, passage. 
 
 Pech, to pant, to labour in breathing. 
 
 Peer, match, equal. 
 
 Peerman, holder for fir candle. 
 
 Pig, pitcher. 
 
 Pirn, reel. 
 
 Plisky, mischievous trick. 
 
 Ploy, frolic. 
 
 Pock, bag. 
 
 Pooch, to pocket 
 
 Pow, poll, head. 
 
 Pree\i, tasted. 
 
 Preen, pin. 
 
 Prob, to pierce. 
 
 Puckle, small quantity. 
 
 Quaich, drinking cup with two 
 
 handles. 
 Qiteel, to cool. 
 Queei, ankle. 
 Quern, stone hand-mill. 
 Queyn, quean, young woman. 
 Quirky, tricky. 
 
 Rant, quick lively tune. 
 
 Rantree, rowan tree, mountain ash. 
 
 Rape, rope, especially one made of 
 
 straw. 
 Rax, to stretch. 
 Ream, cream. 
 Redd up, to clear up. 
 Reed, rood by measurement 
 Reek, smoke. 
 
 Reemish, weighty stroke or blow. 
 Reeshliri, rustling. 
 Reets, roots. 
 Reist, to bank up a fire. 
 Rifted, belched. 
 Riggifi', ridge, roof. 
 Roch, rough. 
 Rockins, evening gatherings for work 
 
 and gossip. 
 Reddens, rowans. 
 
 Roup, sale by auction. 
 Roupy, hoarse. 
 Routh, plenty. 
 Rowed, rolled, wrapped. 
 Ruck, rick, stack. 
 Ruggin', pulling. 
 Rung, heavy staff. 
 Runt, withered hag. 
 
 St. Sairs, market in Aberdeenshire. 
 
 Sappy, moist, full of juice. 
 
 Saugh, willow. 
 
 Scob, to put in splints. 
 
 Scouk, evil look. 
 
 Scrat, scratch. 
 
 Scrunt, stunted in growth. 
 
 Scunner, loathing, to disgust 
 
 Seggit, sagged, sunk down. 
 
 Seggs, yellow flower-de-luce or iris. 
 
 Set, rented. 
 
 Seyed, put through a sieve. 
 
 Shaltie, pony. 
 
 Shank, to knit, knitting. 
 
 Shee, shoe. 
 
 Shoon, shoes. 
 
 Shortsome, amusing, causing the time 
 
 to seem short 
 Shiie, sew. 
 Siccan, such. 
 Sids, corn husks. 
 Simmer, summer. 
 Sizzons, seasons. 
 Skaith, hurt, injury. 
 Skeely, skilful. 
 Skelp, stroke, blow. 
 Skep, bee hive. 
 Skirtit, ran quickly. 
 Skraich, screech. 
 Skreck of day, dawn. 
 Slap, opening, piece broken out 
 Slee, sly. 
 Slips the timmers, (metaphor for) 
 
 dies. 
 Slock, to quench thirst 
 Smoriri, smothering. 
 
138 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Snaw-bree^ melted snow. 
 
 Sneck, latch. 
 
 Sned, to cut, to prune. 
 
 Snell, keen, sharp, severe. 
 
 Sons}\ plurnp. 
 
 Sooker, sucker. 
 
 Soorocks, sorrel. 
 
 Sooter^ cobbler. 
 
 Sornin\ obtruding on another for 
 
 bed and board. 
 Soujf, to whistle or con over a tune 
 
 in a low tone. 
 Soughin\ sighing, making a low 
 
 whistling noise. 
 Soiip/e, supple. 
 Spue, to tell fortunes. 
 Spairge, to bespatter by dashing a 
 
 liquid. 
 Spate, flood. 
 Speel, to climb. 
 Speer, to inquire. 
 Spring, tune. 
 Stackers, staggers. 
 Stance, place, station. 
 Stang, long pole ; (of a trump), 
 
 tongue of a Jew's harp. 
 Starkly, strongly, bravely. 
 Starn, star. 
 Steed, stood. 
 Steek, stitch. 
 Steer, stir, disturb. 
 Stent, extent of task. 
 Stirk, young bullock. 
 Stab, thorn. 
 Stobbit, thatched by means of a stob 
 
 or stake. 
 Stoitered, staggered, tottered. 
 Stookit, put into shocks. 
 Stoor, dust. 
 Stooru7n, gruel. 
 
 Store the kin, li\'e, keep up the stock. 
 Stoi, bullock older than a stirk. 
 Stoiinds, aches, acute pains. 
 Streek, stretch. 
 Streen, yesterday. 
 
 Strype, small rilL 
 Studdy, anvil. 
 Swak, supple. 
 Swarfed, fainted. 
 Swatch, sample piece. 
 Sweel, swill, to wash away. 
 Sweer, lazy. 
 Swiih, swiftly. 
 Swither, hesitate. 
 Syne, then, since. 
 
 Tablin\ top stones on a gable. 
 
 Tack, lease. 
 
 Tansies, ragweed. 
 
 Tap, top. 
 
 Tasked, fatigued. 
 
 Ted, toad, applied to children or 
 young women as a term of endear- 
 ment. 
 
 Teem, toom, empty. 
 
 Tenty, careful, attentive. 
 
 Teuck, tough. 
 
 Teuckat, lapwing. 
 
 Thackit, thatched. 
 
 Theivless, feeble. 
 
 Thiggiri, to go about receiving 
 supply not in the way of common 
 mendicants, but rather giving 
 others an opportunity of showing 
 their liberality. 
 
 Thirled, bound or enthralled. 
 
 Thootn, thumb, to massage with the 
 thumbs. 
 
 Thrang, throng. 
 
 Thrapple, throat. 
 
 Tkrave, two stooks or 24 sheaves. 
 
 Thraiv, twist, sprain. 
 
 Thrawcruik, implement for twisting 
 straw ropes. 
 
 Threeiie, throve. 
 
 77/; urns, ends of yarn ; span her 
 tkrums, purred. 
 
 Ttm?ner, timber. 
 
 Tint, lost. 
 
 Tirl, act of vibrating. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 139 
 
 Tirl the sneck, twirl the handle of the 
 
 latch. 
 Tirr, to strip forcibly. 
 Tittif the tow, pulled the bell-rope. 
 Tooin, empty. 
 Tocher, dowry. 
 Tod, fox. 
 
 Towmond, twelvemonth. 
 Trail the rape, Hallowe'en spell 
 
 which consisted in dragging a 
 
 straw rope of peculiar make round 
 
 the house. 
 Tnims, shafts, as of a cart. 
 Trauchled, draggled. 
 Travise, division between stalls. 
 Troke, barter. 
 Triiff, turf. 
 Trump, Jew's harp. 
 Tulzie, quarrel. 
 Tiveezlock, another name for thraw- 
 
 cruik. 
 Tyauve {wV a), with great difi&culty. 
 
 Unco, strange, uncommon. 
 
 Virr, force, impetuosity. 
 Vratches, wretches. 
 Vreetiii, writing. 
 Vricht, Wright. 
 
 Wadset, to mortgage. 
 Waled, chosen. 
 
 Waller, weller, frequenter of St. 
 
 Ronan's well. 
 Wardly, worldly. 
 Wared, expended. 
 Warslin', struggling. 
 Waucht, large draught. 
 Weet, wet. 
 
 Weird, fate, destiny. 
 Whaup, curlew. 
 Wheeple, shrill intermitting note with 
 
 little variation of tone. 
 Whip-the-cat, tailor with no fixed 
 
 place of business, who goes from 
 
 house to house. 
 Whorl, flywheel of a spindle made of 
 
 wood or stone. 
 Whylock, little while. 
 Wicks 0' mou's, corners of the mouth. 
 Winceys, petticoats made of wincey. 
 Wiss, wish. 
 Wuddy, gallows. 
 Wye, way. 
 
 Yeldrin, yellow-hammer. 
 
 Yett, gate. 
 
 Yill, ale. 
 
 Yird, earth. 
 
 Yokin', working period during which 
 
 horses are in harness. 
 Youkie, itchy. 
 Yowes, ewes. 
 
 Printed in Great Britain by 
 
 T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty 
 
 at the University Press, Edinburgh