POEMS AND SONGS 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 DAVID PICKEN. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 HE present Volume, as is elsewhere explained, 
 has been issued in compliance with the re- 
 quest of a numerous circle of friends of the late 
 DAVID PICKEN. The Committee who have taken 
 charge of the publication have to express their 
 thanks to the gentleman who has kindly edited 
 the Volume and furnished the Memoir and 
 Notes. They feel confident that those inter- 
 ested will be satisfied that the work has been 
 accomplished in a proper spirit, and in such a 
 way as to be a fitting memorial of a friend they 
 all so much esteemed. 
 
 PAISLEY, August, 1875. 
 
 104 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE, v. 
 
 CONTENTS, vii. 
 
 MEMOIR, 1-16 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Kilmalcolm ; our Club's first trip thereto, 17 
 
 Kilmalcolm re-visited by the Club, 21 
 
 A Dream, 27 
 
 The Teachings of a Winter's Day, 31 
 
 A Lay Sermon, 33 
 
 The Go-a-heads, 37 
 
 Sabbath Morning Reflections, 41 
 
 To the Memory of Allan Stewart, 43 
 
 Epistle to a Friend, 45 
 
 On the Death of Janet Picken, 47 
 
 To a Tract about to be posted to a distant friend, 48 
 
 Farewell to James Ronald, 49 
 
 To the Memory of James Picken, 51 
 
 The Weaver's Child, 53 
 
 Storie Street Well, 55 
 
 The Ghaist o' Storie Street Well, 60 
 
V1U. CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 Fragment: Epistle to a Friend, 64 
 
 The Martyrs' Grave, 67 
 
 Elegy on Walter Peacock, 69 
 
 Alas ! they're gone who cheered me, 73 
 
 On reading a Burlesque Sermon to Bachelors, 74 
 
 A Light to Lighten those who leaped into Political 
 
 Darkness, 75 
 
 School Board Elections and Comic Cartoons, 78 
 
 Fragment: Dear S , 81 
 
 The School Board and the Drill Hall Indignation Meeting, 82 
 
 The Tannahill Centenary, 86 
 
 Free Breakfasts and Bonded Lights, 91 
 
 Whigs and Tories, 92 
 
 Tom Hood in a fix, 95 
 
 The New Year Expectant, 96 
 
 To Sanct Crispin, 96 
 
 Fragment, 97 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 The Gallant Paisley Weaver, 99 
 
 When you and I, Jeannie, 103 
 
 Wae'sme, 104 
 
 " Heart's-Ease," .... ...106 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 DAVID PICKEN, the author of the modest effusions con- 
 tained in the present volume, was born at 37 Storie 
 Street, Paisley, on the 16th of April, 1809, just at 
 the time when that love of song for which his 
 native town has acquired a certain celebrity was at its 
 height. Mr. PICKET'S family belonged to the then ex- 
 tensively-spread local industry of hand-loom weaving 
 which, in its finer departments of silk and gauze, was a 
 light, cheerful occupation, combining ample remunera- 
 tion for labour with an amount of spare time that gave 
 opportunities for cultivating that love of nature which, 
 in the case of Robert Tannahill, Robert Allan, and 
 numbers of their compeers, welled out into pleasing and 
 graceful song. To the loom Mr. PICKED remained 
 attached through life, sharing contentedly its varying 
 fortunes, and enjoying to the last that pride in his occu- 
 pation to which he has given vent so fully in his song 
 of " The gallant Paisley Weaver." Sprung from a 
 respectable household, he received the customary round 
 of education then deemed sufficient. The curriculum 
 of study in the schools of that period was by no means 
 so extended as at present ; but whether from the sound- 
 ness of the teaching, as far as it went, or the habits of 
 after reading and reflection engrafted during their 
 limited course of tuition, men of Mr. PICKEN'S stamp 
 
2 MEMOIK. 
 
 may be satisfactorily adduced as examples of how effec- 
 tively they could keep their ground with those who, 
 in more recent times, have enjoyed, presumably at least, 
 so many more favourable opportunities of culture.* In 
 the times of his boyhood, reading, writing, and arithmetic 
 were all that was taught in the ordinary schools to which 
 tradesmen sent their children. The work was simple 
 and soon got over, and but a few " quarters" were 
 deemed necessary to get all that was required. Where 
 day education had from family necessities been cut 
 short, any hiatus left was filled up by the opportunities 
 of the "night school." The Shorter Catechism and 
 the grand old lessons of Bible history, with some collec- 
 tion or other of standard specimens of English Litera- 
 ture, were about all that was put into the hands of the 
 children ; and yet what Burns says of the physical up- 
 bringing of the Scottish peasantry may be said also of 
 their intellectual training, 
 
 " buirdly chiels and clever hizzies 
 Were bred on sic a fare as this is." 
 
 Of the period Mr. PICKEN remained at school we 
 have no particular record. It was probably not a 
 lengthened one ; but whatever amount of intellectual 
 culture he there received was afterwards amplified 
 and improved by reading and observation. His boy- 
 
 * Mr. PICKEN, it may be mentioned, was nephew to the 
 well-known Andrew Picken, author of the "Dominie's 
 Legacy," "Traditionary Stories of the West of Scotland," 
 "The Black Watch," &c., who, after leaving Paisley, occu- 
 pied a distinguished position in the literary circles of London. 
 
MEMOIB. 3 
 
 hood, it must be remembered, was a time of more than 
 usual excitement and inquiry, especially in political 
 matters. He was but entering on his seventh year when 
 the return of the first French Emperor from Elba and 
 the " Hundred Days" that ended for him so disas- 
 trously at "Waterloo were occupying the attention of 
 all classes, and of none more so than the artizans of 
 Paisley, who, during the preceding twenty years, had 
 been famous for their interest in the stirring events of 
 continental history. Eegarding the French Revolution as 
 the overthrow of " Despotism " and the establishment of 
 the principle of Right over that of Might, the " Black- 
 nebs," as they were called, of Paisley were not without 
 a certain sympathy for the fallen Emperor, and had 
 their fears that his overthrow might tend to the retard- 
 ment of healthy political progress at home. It was the 
 habit, of the weaving class especially, to discuss freely 
 at street corners and by " loom-stoops " the events of 
 the time, and their " draw-boy" assistants hearing all 
 these discussions, necessarily soon became quite as ardent 
 politicians as their masters. The five years immediately 
 succeeding Waterloo were years of great excitement 
 amongst the working classes. The " Peace" to which 
 they had longingly looked as likely to bring almost 
 millenial blessings, had, as far as employment and re- 
 muneration were concerned, results almost diametrically 
 opposite ; the spirit of discontent spread itself on every 
 hand, and the desire for political amelioration and 
 sweeping changes of our representative system became 
 deep-seated and popular. The repressive spirit dis- 
 played by the Government led to extravagant notions 
 
4 MEMOIR 
 
 of resistance on the part of the people, till at last the agita- 
 tion ended in the disasters of 1819 and '20, when James 
 Wilson at Glasgow, and Baird and Hardie at Stirling, 
 suffered death by the hands of the public executioner, 
 and James Spiers at Paisley fortuitously escaped the same 
 fate, through the statute under which he had been ex- 
 ceptionally tried to make conviction more certain requir- 
 ing a unanimous verdict. In the discussions of this event- 
 ful period, DAVID PICKED, boy as he was, was doubtless 
 interested, and the political leanings then engendered 
 adhered to him through life. Of the local political 
 excitement of 1819-20 he must have had vivid recollec- 
 tions. The immediate neighbourhood of his family's 
 residence was that of two of the more remarkable 
 incidents of the " Radical time ;" as within a hundred 
 yards or so of it stood both the then newly-erected 
 St. George's Church, in which James Speirs was tried, 
 and the Methodist Chapel whose railings were torn 
 down by the populace, in their frenzy, to serve as 
 weapons of attack or defence. At the age he then 
 was, it is more than probable that DAVID PICKEN was 
 an eye-witness on both occasions, and had the seeds 
 sown of that sympathy with the Reformers of the time 
 that led him long afterwards to regard their move- 
 ments as 
 
 " the last embattled stroke 
 That Scotchmen struck at vile oppression's yoke ; " 
 
 but wherein, alas, 
 
 " they found their enterprise 
 Was circumvented and betrayed by spies." 
 
 In the movements for Parliamentary Reform which, 
 
MEMOIR. 5 
 
 beginning in 1829, gathered into irresistible strength 
 after the French Revolution of 1830, and eventually 
 culminated in the great Parliamentary concessions of 
 1832, Mr. PICKEN continued the warm and steadfast 
 friend of political progress. Several of his pieces refer 
 to this and immediately succeeding periods, and give 
 expression to the dissatisfaction of the great bulk of the 
 working classes at the pusillanimous if not treacherous 
 conduct of the Whig Party, who, finding themselves at 
 length in power, displayed no alacrity to push on still 
 further the enfranchisement of the people, but evidenced 
 a desire rather to " rest and be thankfu','' in the secret 
 belief, doubtless, that having had their immediate 
 political cravings gratified, they might travel farther 
 and fare worse. This policy, which finally brought on 
 the Chartist agitations of 1839-40-41, alienated from 
 them the sympathies of the working class, and of 
 no one more than Mr. PICKED, who regarded every 
 popular advance in the most favourable of lights, and 
 the special gratification of whose later years must have 
 been that he had lived to see that full, fair, and free 
 enfranchisement of the people that he, in common with 
 his class, had so long desiderated. 
 
 Throughout life Mr. PICKED thus stood manfully by 
 his order. "With the interests of working men his best 
 feelings were intertwined; and although his modest 
 and retiring character led him to shrink from any osten- 
 tatious intermeddling with social questions and to con- 
 fine his expressions of opinion to simple conversation or 
 an occasional outpouring in verse, wrathful or humor- 
 ous as best fitted his mood, still, that his interest 
 
6 MEMOIR. 
 
 in such topics was keen and abiding there is ample 
 evidence in the present volume to show ; and whether it 
 might be reprehensible excess in trading speculations, 
 undue manifestations of selfishness of class against class, 
 the withholding of popular rights, the misreadings of 
 public calamities, the unseemly witticisms of political 
 contests, or the stinginess that would mar liberality 
 where the interests of the young were at stake, he had 
 not only his opinion, but the courage to express it. It 
 may be that occasionally he wrote quite as much from 
 his feelings of the moment as from his cooler judgment. 
 Of this he was himself perfectly aware. 
 
 " Alack-a-day, that my impulsive muse 
 
 Should for herself choose such ungracious subject, 
 Knowing, as she does well, the Press refuse 
 
 Insertion to such samples of her budget. 
 Still, she cries out to propagate her views, 
 And / unto her wayward whims am subject. " 
 
 He had all the workman's detestation of the "tricks of 
 trade," and was wont to ascribe its periodical depres- 
 sions to the rapacities of the wages-breaker and over- 
 producer. 
 
 " Of late there have been Achans in our camps, 
 Whose sellish lust for the unrighteous mammon 
 
 Has spread distrust through our commercial ranks, 
 And rendered trade a wicked game of gammon. 
 
 Had these with Joshua been on Jordan's banks, 
 
 They'd have been stoned, or hung as high as Haman. 
 
 In trade or war, when men commence to plunder, 
 
 Society and armies fall asunder. " 
 
 His ideas were, that trade ought to be conducted on 
 
MKMOIli. 7 
 
 principles less selfish and more philanthropic. He 
 could not understand how, when 
 
 " God's mercy had provided 
 
 In barn and byre an ample store, 
 Enough to spread, if right divided, 
 
 The family board of rich and poor, 
 That yet, despite this great profusion, 
 
 The poor repine and cry for bread ; " 
 
 and held by 
 
 " the new Gospel plan, 
 Of doing as we would that others 
 
 In like way should do to us ; 
 In works of love serving each other, 
 
 As we or they are prosperous ; " 
 
 as well as by the assurance that 
 
 " to love thy neighbour 
 As thou would'st thine own dear self, 
 Would add a blessing on man's labour, 
 And guard against unrighteous pelf." 
 
 Such sentiments the more critical may be inclined to 
 characterise as vague and hazy, and to set them down 
 as crudities that a more intimate contact and personal 
 intermixing in the great battle of life would have modi- 
 fied or dissipated. Be it so. It was perhaps the good 
 fortune of Mr. PICZEN that he remained in a sphere 
 where the chicaneries of the great world and the occa- 
 sional meannesses and peccadillos of commerce had no 
 opportunity to strike root or grow. 
 
 That there was a deep-seated feeling of veneration 
 for religious things in the character of Mr. PICKEN, is 
 
8 MEMOIR. 
 
 evident from the general tenor of his verses. His 
 detestation of such 
 
 " humbug, as that our dull trade woes 
 Are to be regarded as God's visitation j " 
 
 or of such assertions as that 
 
 " the chief est sinners were the working classes, 
 For 'twas their special food had turned to dust and ashes ; " 
 
 or the opinion 
 
 " that a formal prayer's omission 
 Does not entail upon our temporal state 
 Those ills that surely follow crime's commission," 
 
 is not to be viewed as indicative of any spirit of irrev- 
 erence. Such pieces as " The Dream," where his 
 
 " Sainted sister, child of Heaven, 
 She whom subtle death had driven 
 
 From this sad and changing shore," 
 
 comes again to revisit him and listen to his enquiries 
 why she had left "her home in glory," that on the 
 memory of his brother, his " Sabbath Morning Reflec- 
 tions," and one or two others, are alike indicative of 
 his susceptibility to solemn and even religious emotions. 
 Of his humanity and kindly interest in "all that 
 breathes," we have ample evidence. Of the poor man's 
 child he could say 
 
 " God help thee, child ; with hardships soon 
 Thou hast become acquaint ; " 
 
 while amidst his delineations of a winter's day, the 
 kind considerations for even the humbler orders of the 
 animal creation that welled up in the bosom of the great 
 
MEMOIB. 9 
 
 high priest of Scottish song, when he turned up the nest 
 of the field-mouse with his ploughshare, were not 
 wanting in that of his more humhly-gifted hrother, 
 
 " On northern blasts, the snow-flakes flicker 
 
 Wi' freezing sough across the lea ; 
 The birds upon the Jiedges twitter, 
 Wi* drooping wing and closing e'e. 
 
 Poor little things, though Winter rages 
 
 An' fields are covered o'er wi' snaw, 
 'Neath bramble, brake, or sheltered hedges, 
 
 They pick up food unseen by a'." 
 
 The retiring modesty of Mr. PICKEN was another 
 strong feature of his character. He never thrust him- 
 self to the front, and rarely obtruded his poetical effu- 
 sions upon public notice. His gifts were known only 
 to a select circle of Mends, and that circle he displayed 
 no anxiety to enlarge. Still, he was inclined to 
 sociality and innocent mirth, and never allowed any 
 diversity of fortune between himself and early friends 
 to lower in the slightest his self-respect. Amidst, he 
 
 assures us, 
 
 " the changes of my passing years, 
 
 I still have friends congenial and true ; 
 
 Although we move in various trading spheres, 
 We often meet and have a glass or two, 
 And talk on general subjects old and new." 
 
 His pursuit of the muse, too, was of the most unworldly 
 and unselfish kind. His exercise of verse was an en- 
 joyment in which he indulged for its own exceeding 
 great reward; and the solace he enjoyed from it sweet- 
 ened considerably his quiet and retired life. The circle 
 of his " Club " was congenial and inviting, and within 
 
10 MEMOIR. 
 
 its limited round lie appeared to find enough of social 
 intercourse to satisfy his wants. 
 
 Mr. PICKED remained throughout life a bachelor, and 
 resided in family with his father till the death of the 
 latter, about 1853. He then Temoved from his much- 
 loved Storie Street to 12 Stevenson Street, where he 
 eventually died. Whether his prolonged celibacy re- 
 sulted from some early slight is not to be gathered from 
 his writings, although an expression in one of his im- 
 promptus would almost lead to such a supposition. 
 " The impression," he says, 
 
 " of an early love will cling 
 Unto the heart until the head grows hoary. 
 Nay, many instances I could easily bring, 
 
 Alike from ancient and from modern story, 
 Of dying men who even spoke with gladness 
 Of meeting soon the cause of their long earthly sadness." 
 
 Be the fact in his case as it may, the attentions and 
 comforts enjoyed with a branch of the family sufficed 
 for his requirements, and he enjoyed the abandon and 
 freedom that celibacy unquestionably affords. His 
 attachments were entirely local. Little from home, his 
 affections entwined themselves around the scenes and 
 associates he had been familiar with from childhood. 
 The old pump, where he had played and where 
 perhaps "Auld Tarn had gien his lugs a clinking," 
 "Wattie Pe'ock," at whose drum he'd " flung a 
 stane, to gar it soun'," "Gleniffer's Wood and Glen," 
 "Inchinnan Loan," and "the old Douglas trees," all 
 of which are more or less alluded to, prove this locality 
 of feeling, and show the unpretending simplicity of his 
 character. 
 
MEMOIR. 1 1 
 
 During the summer and autumn of 1874, evidences 
 of declining strength began to manifest themselves to 
 his friends. Of this, there is evidence enough, he 
 had for a time been personally conscious. Three years 
 previously he had said, 
 
 " I find the tottering of my footfall paces 
 
 Kequires a staff to keep me straight and staid ; " 
 
 whilst, on the occasion of last year's centenary celebra- 
 tion of the birth of Tannahill, he expresses his desire, in 
 the company of his " quaint descriptive muse," to wander 
 up the hill and read the descriptions of the rejoicings. 
 
 " 'Twill make my bosom thrill 
 With the warm glow of brighter, younger years ; 
 
 For now Pm old, and could not press uphill, 
 To join the throng and hear their joyous cheers." 
 
 The end at length came. About the beginning of 
 December he caught a severe cold, resulting in an illness 
 of several weeks, and terminating in an attack of pul- 
 monary congestion, to which he succumbed on Sun- 
 day, 3rd January. On the Wednesday following, his 
 remains were deposited in the family lair in the High- 
 church bury ing- ground, in the presence of about a hun- 
 dred gentlemen representing all classes in the com- 
 munity. 
 
 " One morn we missed him on the accustomed hill, 
 Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; 
 Another came, nor yet beside the rill, 
 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he." 
 
 Thus ended a life so quiet and unobtrusive in its 
 character and so uneventful and unchequered, as to 
 
12 MEMOIR. 
 
 afford little scope for extended remark. The round of 
 daily duty had been too uniform and unvaried, and too 
 faithfully and steadily performed, to give that light and 
 shade which constitute the charm of all records of in- 
 dividual or national character. Of such men as DAVID 
 PICKEN, it may be truly said that " they pass their lives 
 obscure " till some accidental circumstance " drags them 
 into fame ; " and of such too it must be confessed, 
 despite intellectual worth and homely virtues, that on 
 their memorial tablets, too often, " their name, their 
 years, the place of fame and elegy supply." Little 
 known beyond their immediate circles, they "are soon 
 forgotten when they're gone," unless where, as in the 
 present instance, the hands of loving friends gather to- 
 gether memorials that, but for such care, might have 
 been soon hopelessly lost or scattered. If " even in our 
 ashes live our wonted fires," the modest collection of 
 literary remains here published will bring back, not un- 
 frequently, recollections of its author, and keep his re- 
 membrance green in the memories of those at least who 
 enjoyed his friendship. 
 
 In the preceding remarks, necessarily more biogaphi- 
 cal than critical, Mr. PICZEN has been 'referred to rather 
 as a man and a politician tfran as a poet; still, although 
 the tenets of his political and social creed were soundly 
 honest, and his spirit of philanthropy undoubted, it 
 will be as the quiet and observant humourist, the 
 genial appreciator and delineator of natural scenery 
 and homely character, and the weaver of quaint and 
 
MEMOIR. 13 
 
 peculiar verse, that he will be most lovingly remem- 
 bered. There need be no desire to set him high amongst 
 the gifted sons of song ; his own modesty would have 
 spurned- any such idea. A place among the Minor 
 Bards of his County is all his admirers claim, feeling 
 confident that with such a position he would have 
 been more than content. That he possessed a credit- 
 able amount of poetic genius few will deny; he had 
 that fine appreciation of nature's beauties that none 
 but poetic minds possess, and that gift of word-painting 
 that not only conveys accurate impressions of the things 
 seen, but of the thoughts to which they give rise and 
 with which they remain associated, which is character- 
 istic of the poetic temperament. No better example of 
 his keen and accurate observation, racy power of de- 
 scription, and blend of quaint humour, can be given 
 than some of the stanzas on " Kilma'com." First, his 
 description of the irregularly-formed village 
 
 " Kilmalcolm is a grotesque little town 
 
 House walls of earthstone, roofs of heather thack ; 
 No plan of street or road has been laid down, 
 One cannot tell the front- door from the back! 
 
 " ' Out of the world and into Kilma'com ' 
 
 Is often quoted when one's pressed with care ; 
 For 'tis, forsooth, a rural catacomb, 
 
 Where lies, embalmed in heather-scented air, 
 
 A labyrinthian range or crooked lair 
 Of houses, built with no commercial view ; 
 
 The natives till the ground, no trade is there, 
 They pass their lives as Scotchmen wont to do, 
 Content with parritch, a Scotch plaid, and bonnet blue. " 
 
14 MEMOIB. 
 
 And then his delineation of the face of nature on the 
 wintry day of his second visit, 
 
 " We took our former path down Glenburn side, 
 
 Then o'er the moor amang the snow-clad heather ; 
 See, see my town-bred muse try to describe 
 
 This country scene of stern, mid-winter weather ; 
 
 The floating clouds unveil the sky-blue ether, 
 The sunbeams and the gleams of unsoiled snow 
 
 Meet, blush, embrace, and dance together ; 
 Anon a heavy cloud, with gloomy brow, 
 Does pall the beauties of the panoramic show. 
 
 " Where are the farmer's landmarks, where his field 
 
 Of winter wheat or cattle -grazing park ? 
 Marshes and lochs, by ice and snow concealed, 
 
 Have lost the ripple of the water-mark ; 
 
 All things are swaddled in a sleeping sark 
 Of such unspotted purity and brightness, 
 
 Imagination, dazzled, gropes in the dark 
 To find a simile or a proper likeness ; 
 Celestial purity alone excels the scene in whiteness. " 
 
 The verses on Storie Street Well are admirable speci- 
 mens of his quiet, pawky humour that could hit off 
 the eccentricities of individual character, without in any 
 way giving offence. The sketch of the old pump in 
 its pristine days, to those who can throw their recollec- 
 tions back for forty or five-and-forty years, must have 
 a charm that, to those who cannot, is perfectly indes- 
 cribable. The old worthies who took charge, and the 
 long array of expecting recipients in the seasons of 
 summer droughts, all rise up again as they did "lang 
 syne," and shadows of the "arabs" from Rope-a-ree 
 Close and Goose-dubs again throw themselves upon the 
 
MEMOIR. 15 
 
 scene. The description of Tarn, " in the same claise 
 he wore langsyne," is particularly graphic. He is 
 pourtrayed as faithfully as if some of the old quaint 
 Dutch painters had done the work, and could he but be 
 transferred to canvass in all the integrity with which 
 the poet has put him on paper, the picture would be 
 a valuable depiction of a " Character." How naively 
 the old deshabilU is hit off : 
 
 " Green worsted apron, tied wV string ; 
 
 Blue bonnet, wi' a checkered ring ; 
 
 His braces o'er his breeks hing slack, 
 
 See, ane is dangling at his back ; 
 
 His stockings slobber o'er his kuits, 
 
 Shod wi' a pair o' bauchelled boots ; " 
 
 while, best joke of all, and quite illustrative in its 
 way of the author's keen appreciation of the humour- 
 ous, 
 
 " ludicrous and strange phisog 
 
 His mouth is thrawn maist to his lug ! 
 
 (A warning taught our early youth, 
 
 That horrid swearing thrawed his mouth.)" 
 
 Not less happy are the allusions as to the selling of 
 the well, 
 
 " Na, na, let it stand ; it is still of some use 
 E'en to those who would sell it ; when drapping the booze 
 They kneel to its pump and say in to themsel' 
 It aye comes to water frae Storie Street Well.' " 
 In the persual of the volume the reader will find for 
 himself many stray lines indicative of the qualities of 
 mind referred to. 
 
 " Dark vaporous clouds roll o'er the distant hills, 
 Portentous of a coming shower of rain ;" 
 
1 6 MEMOIE. 
 
 " The clouded sun sank in the evening shade, 
 That lay upon the far out-stretching seas ; " 
 
 " The gloom of night was gathering on the sea ; " 
 
 " The sun along the south horizon 
 
 Wades through dull clouds of misty grey ; " 
 
 and many others, might be quoted as examples of how 
 the varying phases of external nature were photo- 
 graphed on his mind, and how happily he could convey 
 his impressions to others. 
 
 The present volume appears in compliance with the 
 expressed desire of a numerous circle of friends. Its 
 preparation has been quite a labour of love to those 
 who have taken an interest in it. Unfortunately, like 
 all posthumous publications, it lacks the advantage of 
 personal revision by the author, and this is all the more 
 to be regretted that his papers do not appear to have 
 undergone any special correction with a view to publi- 
 cation. Possibly there may be omissions, but every care 
 has been taken to make the present collection as complete 
 as possible ; and as the main design of publication has 
 been to place in the hands of friends a fitting memorial 
 of Mr. PICKEN, it is fondly hoped that that object is 
 now satisfactorily accomplished. 
 
 PAISLEY, August, 1875. 
 
rOEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 KILMALCOLM.* 
 OTJR CLUB'S FIRST TRIP THERETO. 
 
 PHOU sweet mnemonic retrospective muse, 
 I know not if thou'rt classed amongst the 
 
 nine, 
 
 But Scotchmen, when they meet for blythe carouse, 
 Invoke thee by the name of " Auld Langsyne." 
 So hand-in-hand we will together join 
 To dictate these commemorative lays 
 
 Of our Club's tiip down the new Greenock line 
 To where it burrows through Kihnalcohn Braes, 
 Where we spent one of our bright New- Year 
 holidays. 
 
 * Long one of the most delightfully rural villages of the 
 County of Renfrew. Situated high up in a moorland district, 
 and apart from the great lines of communication, it had few 
 relations with the "outer world," and might indeed have 
 been described as a region 
 
 " Where every sound was lulled 
 To slumber, save the trickling of the rill, 
 Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcon's cry." 
 
 But things are now greatly changed, and "out of the world 
 B 
 
18 
 
 Kilmalcolm is a grotesque little town, 
 
 House-walls of earthstones, roofs of heather 
 
 thack ; 
 No plan of street or road has been laid down ; 
 
 One cannot tell the front door from the back ; 
 
 Its founder must have been some old earthquack, 
 That gave the hills a strong volcanic dose, 
 
 Which time fomented, till their sides did crack 
 And threw black boulders down to Glenburn moss, 
 And thus the town of Kilma'com arose. 
 
 This may be thought a shocking pun in rhyme, 
 Where earthquack acts like to a quack M.D. ; 
 
 But I am sure the figure's more sublime 
 Than the effects of untaught Pharmacy ; 
 Besides, our Club requires a short essay 
 
 On this their first trip of the new-born year ; 
 
 and into Kilma'com" is no longer a proverb. The "new 
 Greenock line " has opened up alike the village and its sur- 
 roundings ; and its pure and bracing air is tempting many 
 denizens of the city to settle down in ornamental villas, now 
 rapidly rising in this formerly -isolated district. A new Inn 
 provides comforts for the casual traveller, and few better day 
 "outs" than Kilma'colm could be afforded for the genial 
 Club with which Mr. Picken was connected, to celebrate its 
 New- Year, or any other holiday. 
 
19 
 
 I know their taste, and will be bold to say, 
 Although my diction be both quaint and queer, 
 'Twill please them better than the Scottish 
 
 Gazetteer. * 
 
 " Out of the world and into Kilma'com " 
 
 Is often quoted when one's pressed with care ; 
 
 For 'tis forsooth a rural catacomb, 
 
 Where lies, embalmed in heather-scented air, 
 A labyrinthian range or crooked lair 
 
 Of houses, built with no commercial view : 
 
 The natives till the ground, no trade is there, 
 
 They pass their lives as Scotchmen wont to do, 
 
 Content with parritch, a Scotch plaid, and bonnet 
 blue. 
 
 One of our party acted as our guide, 
 
 From early boyhood he had known the place ; 
 
 Another had the forethought to provide 
 Some carnal comforts in a travelling case, 
 Of which we all partook with thankful grace, 
 
 Then rambled as our various fancies led ; 
 
 * i.e., The description of the village in that publication. 
 
20 
 
 Some scanned the Glenburn's bracken-fring'd 
 
 brae-face, 
 
 Some look'd for golden quartz down in its bed; 
 When lo ! a shower of hail blew overhead, 
 Which made us seek the nearest hostelery's shade. 
 
 I'll not report our Club's glorification, 
 
 Nor after-dinner speeches in the Inn, 
 In these my notes on our New-Year ovation ; 
 
 To mention names might be a personal sin. 
 
 But down in Peter's * ample proof was seen, 
 On Eighteen-Seventy's fourth Januar' eve, 
 
 That none of us with drink were lame or blin', 
 And on each breast you also would perceive 
 Our incorporation badge a Kilma'com fern-leaf. 
 Jan., 1870. 
 
 * The Paisley rendezvous of the Club, where the excursion- 
 ists reassembled after their return to town. 
 
21 
 
 KILMALCOLM RE -VISITED BY THE CLUB. 
 
 TYTITHIN the borough of old Paisley town 
 
 My parents reared me in their fond embraces ; 
 Now threescore fleeting years have o'er me flown, 
 
 And they are long since in their resting-places ; 
 
 And many other old familiar faces 
 I miss at morn or evening promenade. 
 
 I find the tottering of my foot-fall paces 
 Requires a staff to keep me straight and staid : 
 Thus all things earthly Steeples even topple 
 o'er and fade. * 
 
 The old familiar sounds I used to hear 
 
 In streets where quiet weavers wont to dwell, 
 
 The family voice, subdued with Godly fear, 
 In meek devotion's modulated swell, 
 
 * Shortly previous, the old Cross Steeple, one of the most 
 prized of our local landmarks, that stood at the corner of Moss- 
 street and High-street, after having, in consequence of certain 
 * ' leanings " southwards, been propped for a considerable period, 
 was finally removed. 
 
22 
 
 Is now changed to a foreign drunken yell, 
 Such as we read of at an Irish fair : 
 
 Even when the solemn Sabbath-morning bell 
 Proclaims the hour for congregated prayer, 
 Harsh oaths grate through the Scottish silence of 
 the Sabbath air. 
 
 This is a change which all good men deplore. 
 
 And, searching for its cause, I recollect 
 Strong drink was cheaper in those days of yore, 
 
 When men had for the Sabbath more respect, 
 
 I know that parties will to this object ; 
 So, lest my verses should become uncivil, 
 
 I'll only say that I do much suspect 
 The cause of all this Sabbath-breaking evil 
 Was at Port-Patrick first imported by the devil.* 
 
 Amidst the changes of my passing years, 
 I still have friends congenial and true ; 
 
 Although we move in various trading spheres, 
 We often meet and have a glass or two, 
 
 * The advent of the Irish element by the old route prior to 
 the introduction of steam communication with the sister isle. 
 
23 
 
 And talk on general subjects old and new, 
 Until eleven o'clock puts us in min' 
 
 Of Scotland's intolerant curfew,* 
 Imposed by men who cannot well define 
 Their stomach's modicum, and therefore measure 
 mine. 
 
 The germ or nucleus of our Club's formation 
 
 Commenced in Peter ', thirty years ago, 
 Without programme or formal preparation, 
 
 Good fellowship's the rule to which we bow. 
 
 Our landlord has the power and tact to know 
 How to keep good company as well as liquor ; 
 
 But language fails his management to show 
 In proper phrase and rightly-sounding metre, 
 Therefore, I will but say our landlord's name is 
 Peter. 
 
 We have a mythic claim to Kilma'com, 
 Our club, I mean, and not the muse or I ; 
 
 A member holds in it, his childhood's home 
 A house, a back-court, and a croft for kye. 
 
 * The Forbes Mackenzie Act. 
 
24 
 
 The railway station has made feus so high, 
 He now talks of his ancestral renown, 
 
 And swears that cash will never buy 
 The claims he has on that famed ancient town, 
 Named after one of Scotland's chiefs who wore 
 the crown. 
 
 This ardent love for home long may he cherish ! 
 
 The members of the club do not regret 
 Their annual visit to his native parish, 
 
 To mark Time's changes on his country seat ; 
 
 Which stands now in a ruined, falling state, 
 Of moss-grown grandeur and rank-weed decay; 
 
 But as our club has had some talk of late 
 An artist to employ, I think I may 
 Let photograph or painter's sketch portray 
 The rural aspect of this wondrous " propertay" 
 
 We took our former path down Glenbum side, 
 Then o'er the moor amang the snow-clad 
 heather ; 
 
 See, see my town-bred muse try to describe 
 This country scene of stern mid-winter weather ; 
 The floating clouds unveil the sky-blue ether, 
 
25 
 
 The sunbeams and the gleams of unsoiled snow 
 
 Meet, blush, embrace, and dance together; 
 Anon a heavy cloud, with gloomy brow, 
 Does pall the beauties of the panoramic show. 
 
 Where are the farmer's land-marks, where his field 
 
 Of winter wheat, or cattle-grazing park 1 
 Marshes and lochs, by ice and snow concealed, 
 
 Have lost the ripple of their water-mark ; 
 
 All things are swaddled in a sleepin' sark 
 Of such unspotted purity and brightness, 
 
 Imagination, dazzled, gropes in the dark 
 To find a simile or a proper likeness, 
 Celestial purity alone excels the scene in whiteness. 
 
 Dark vaporous clouds roll o'er the distant hills, 
 
 Portentous of a coming shower of rain ; 
 We wend our way where smugglers hid their stills, 
 
 Back to the town of Kilma'com again. 
 
 After refreshment we could not restrain 
 The feeling to extend our winter trips, 
 
 So we resolved to go to Greenock in the train ; 
 And, after some responsive hurrah, hips ! 
 We all with one accord went down to see the ships. 
 
26 
 
 We walked along the new-formed esplanade, 
 
 Enjoyed the freshness of the ocean's breeze ; 
 The clouded sun sank in the evening shade, 
 
 That lay upon the far out-stretching seas. 
 
 We took the round of several docks and quays, 
 To inspect the various forms of shipping craft, 
 
 Which lay abreast in twos and threes. 
 One of us knew their features, fore and aft, 
 From weather pennon's tall slim-tapered shaft, 
 Down to the deep-sunk keel's cut water-marked 
 draught. 
 
 The gloom of night was gathering on the sea, 
 So I must finish up my annual lay. 
 
 Talking of home, we left the Greenock quay, 
 When one into an hotel led the way, 
 Where we had something from a covered tray 
 
 By far more savoury than a buttered toast ; 
 When done, we had another hip, hurrah ! 
 
 Then, seated in the train, for home we post, 
 
 Well pleased with our mid-winter trip through 
 snow and biting frost. 
 
 January 23, 1871. 
 
27 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 TT/HILST on my couch of rest reclining, 
 With my inmost thoughts defining 
 
 Hardships that were still in store, 
 Sleep came o'er my senses stealing ; 
 I dreamt, and, oh, a happy feeling 
 Yes, a sweet and heavenly feeling 
 
 Filled my bosom's inmost core. 
 Surely, thought I, this is pleasure 
 
 That I never felt before. 
 
 . 
 
 Methought that I sat lonely, musing 
 The moon her pale rays was diffusing 
 
 Light where darkness reigned before 
 When suddenly my ear was filled 
 With sounds as of one deeply skilled 
 With sounds as of one deeply skilled 
 
 In music's sweet enchanting lore ; 
 I leant my head in heart-felt gladness, 
 
 And sought the mystery to explore. 
 
28 
 
 Still I thought the sound came nearer, 
 The music sounded sweeter, clearer ; 
 
 But of earth no tinge it bore. 
 Surely, thought I, some one enters : 
 Ah ! 'tis some listener who ventures 
 Some enchanted one who ventures 
 
 In at my unbolted door. 
 Yet I heedless sat and listened, 
 
 With keener relish than before. 
 
 
 
 The music ceased ; I gazed around me ; 
 A happy silence did surround me : 
 
 My heart with joy was brimming o'er. 
 When, lo, in my enraptured vision 
 I plainly saw 'twas no delusion 
 No ; no heartless, vain delusion 
 
 That my cherished fancy bore ; 
 But the form of that dear Sister, 
 
 Whose loss I did so much deplore. 
 
 As of old she stood before me, 
 Then lovingly she bended o'er me, 
 Whilst my hair she plaited o'er 
 With flowers of fair and heavenly blossom. 
 
29 
 
 I sought to clasp her to my bosom 
 To this fond, but mortal bosom, 
 
 Sought to clasp her as of yore ; 
 But my arms refused to aid me-. 
 They my wish seemed to ignore. 
 
 I spake, and said with deep emotion, 
 Yet with reverent devotion, 
 
 Teh 1 me, sister, I implore, 
 Why hast thou left thy home in glory 1 
 Is it to teh* some heavenly story 
 To tell me of some heavenly story 
 
 That's happened on its golden shore ? 
 If so, gentle sister, tell me I 
 
 She only smiled, but nothing more. 
 
 Sainted sister, child of Heaven, 
 Thou whom subtle death has driven 
 
 From this sad and changing shore, 
 Tell me hath our Saviour dear, thee 
 Sent on earth again to cheer me 
 To soothe me as of old and cheer me, 
 
 'Midst its never ceasing roar ? 
 Methought she smiled at this, and answered 
 
 No, brother ; never, never more. 
 
30 
 
 Sainted sister, child of Heaven, 
 Thou whom subtle death has driven 
 
 From this ever changing shore, 
 Do the friends who lived in union 
 Here on earth now hold communion 
 Hold a lasting, sweet communion 
 
 With the God they did adore 1 
 Methought she smiled at this, and answered- 
 
 They do, and wiU for evermore. 
 
 Then she made as if to leave me ; 
 Stay, sister, said I, I'll not grieve thee 
 
 With my questions any more. 
 But my request she heard unheeded, 
 Although with energy I pleaded 
 Yea, with heart and soul I pleaded ; 
 
 Yet slowly from my sight she wore, 
 And in a haze of brightness vanished : 
 ^t dream and nothing more I 
 
31 
 
 THE TEACHINGS OF A WINTER'S DAY. 
 
 rPHE sun along the south horizon 
 
 Wades through dull clouds of misty grey ; 
 His feeble light is scarce sufficing 
 To cheer the gleam of Winter's day. 
 
 On northern blasts, the snow-flakes flicker 
 Wi' freezing sough across the lea ; 
 
 The birds upon the hedges twitter, 
 Wi' drooping wing and closing e'e. 
 
 Poor little things, though Winter rages 
 An' fields are covered o'er wi' snaw, 
 
 'Neath bramble, brake, or sheltered hedges, 
 They pick up food unseen by a'. 
 
 Unerring instinct warned the swallow 
 To leave these cold, inclement skies ; 
 
 In southern climes he holds gay gala, 
 And feeds upon the sun-bom flies. 
 
32 
 
 Other tribes, by hunger driven, 
 
 Leave the inland for the coast, 
 And there they find that bounteous heaven 
 
 Provides them food untouched by frost. 
 
 Thus for the birds that plough nor sow not, 
 
 Neither reap nor build a barn, 
 The Lord provides ; mankind to show that 
 
 From such great teachings they may learn 
 
 Of His kind and heavenly care for 
 The welfare and support of man : 
 
 He knows our wants, and bids us therefore 
 Practise the New Gospel plan 
 
 Of doing as we would that others, 
 
 In like ways, should do to us ; 
 In works of love serving each other, 
 
 As we or they are prosperous. 
 
A LAY SERMON. 
 
 WRITTEN DURING ONE OF THE FORMERLY PERIODIC STAGNATIONS 
 OF THE WEAVING TRADE. 
 
 TN case my preface should be deemed verbose, 
 
 I'll leap at once into my meditation 
 On such humbug as that our dull-trade woes 
 
 Are to be regarded as God's visitation. 
 I marvel that the clergy don't propose 
 
 A day of fasting and humiliation, 
 As they did when potatoe crops were fusted ; 
 We're now much worse, when porridge-pots are 
 rusted. 
 
 I recollect, when the potatoe blight 
 
 Engaged the energies of man's invention, 
 
 To trace its cause by scientific light, 
 
 The clergy, by their timely intervention, 
 
 Put all such wicked theories to flight ; 
 
 A judgment 'twas, they said, sent with intention 
 
 Of showing all and sundiy wicked sinners, 
 
 That they should say a grace before their dinners. 
 C 
 
34 
 
 The people stammered at the startling truth 
 
 Of what their pastors on the fast-day told them : 
 'Twas a bad habit they had learned in youth, 
 Of snatching "tauties" * ere the grace had 
 
 cooled them, 
 Puffing and tossing them from hand to mouth ; 
 
 For which their pious mothers oft did scold them ; 
 And that the chiefest sinners were the working 
 
 classes, 
 
 For 'twas their special food had turned to dust 
 and ashes. 
 
 " Some sins themselves " I'll quote the question 
 quite 
 
 " By reason of their several aggravations, 
 " Are still more heinous in the Holy sight 
 
 " Of God 'than others," that have palliations ; 
 Meaning (if that I understand aright 
 
 The Book that guides our Sabbath meditations) 
 That sins of less or more impiety 
 Are known by their effects upon society. 
 
 * Potatoes. 
 
35 
 
 Were I a preacher I might here dilate 
 
 On the degrees of sinful man's transgression ; 
 
 \ 
 
 But as I am not, I merely beg to state 
 
 The opinion that a formal prayer's omission 
 
 Does not entail upon our temporal state 
 
 Those ills that surely follow crime's commission ; 
 
 Nojypod we'll j^t g -**Tnf "fi Church on Sunday, 
 
 If we commence deceit and guile on Monday. 
 
 Of late there have been Achans in our camps, 
 Whose selfish lust for the unrighteous mammon 
 
 Has spread distrust through our commercial ranks, 
 And rendered trade a wicked game of gammon. 
 
 Had these with Joshua been on Jordan's banks, 
 They'd have been stoned, or hung as high as 
 Haman. 
 
 In trade or war, when men commence to plunder, 
 
 Society and armies fall asunder. 
 
 But lest my reader, in his wisdom, should 
 
 Carp at the views of this loose rambling letter, 
 
 Or that I, in my now excited mood, 
 
 Should say things that, withheld, will less em- 
 bitter, 
 
36 
 
 I'll now trespass no longer, but conclude. 
 
 Yet, by my stars, should trade not soon get 
 
 better, 
 
 The members of the late commercial flash club 
 Must e'en be soused in my satiric wash tub. 
 
 Alack-a-day, that my impulsive muse 
 
 Should for herself choose such ungracious sub- 
 ject, 
 
 Knowing, as she does well, the Press refuse 
 Insertion to such samples of her budget. 
 
 Still, she cries out to propagate her views, 
 And I unto her wayward whims am subject. 
 
 Vice to reprove, when Press and Pulpit scout it, 
 
 Who's left butDaunie Weir* and me to shout it? 
 
 * A local peripatetic Demosthenes, still amongst us, who in 
 his more vigorous years was wont to declaim with considerable 
 shrewdness on popular grievances. 
 
37 
 
 THE GO-A-HEADS. 
 
 TT7HY, when God's mercy has provided 
 In barn and byre an ample store 
 Enough to spread, if right divided, 
 The family board of rich and poor 
 
 That yet, despite this great profusion, 
 The poor repine and cry for bread ? 
 
 Why, simply from a cursed delusion, 
 Called by the Yankees, " Go-a-head." 
 
 A-head of what ? Commercial prudence ? 
 
 Our upstart merchants disarrange 
 By fraud, deceit, and bold impudence, 
 
 The balance of trade's just exchange. 
 
 A-head of what ? Commercial order ? 
 
 Men drive business everywhere, 
 O'er trade's legitimate safe border, 
 
 Into speculation's snare. 
 
38 
 
 With bland soft sawder, they deceive their 
 Customers, and give them " tick," 
 
 Who for a while, poor dupes, believe them 
 Honest men, devoid of trick. 
 
 Their own accounts come due, and, hedging 
 To clean out their somewhat empty till 
 
 To raise the needful, take to pledging 
 
 Or forcing off" goods bring what they will. 
 
 Thus do the go-a-heads conjoin to 
 Trade on stock that's not their own, 
 
 And order goods but to consign, to 
 Raise another money loan. 
 
 Another mode of liquidating, 
 
 Or squaring overdue accounts, 
 They find in bank accommodation, 
 
 With cash at ruinous discounts. 
 
 Cash got comes round the day of clearance 
 With the Bank at four months' end; 
 
 The go-a-head makes his appearance, 
 With some confidential friend 
 
39 
 
 Who has some influence with the banker, 
 
 Also, a fierce go-a-head ; 
 The bill's renewed without a hanker, 
 
 And all, by way of helping trade ! 
 
 The go-a-heads thus play their gammon 
 
 With the social weal of man, 
 And, by their zeal in serving mammon, 
 
 Counteract the Gospel plan. 
 
 This lust for this unrighteous mammon 
 
 Has snapt trade's spring and broke its wheel ; 
 
 They ought to swing as high as Haman 
 Who thus outrage the common weal. 
 
 This last expression I won't alter, 
 Although it should grate on the ear ; 
 
 It seems that nothing but a halter 
 Will stop them in their mad career. 
 
 Man can live and not be selfish, 
 
 Himself he can't enjoy alone ; 
 His tastes resemble not the shell-fish, 
 
 That lies beneath the sea-beach stone. 
 
40 
 
 His very needs suggest communion : 
 If earthly comforts men require, 
 
 Efforts reciprocal and union 
 
 Can only gain what they desire. 
 
 The Gospel precept Love thy neighbour 
 As thou wouldst thine own dear self 
 
 Would add a blessing on man's labour, 
 And guard against unrighteous pelf. 
 
 Down then with go-a-head chicanery, 
 That brings trade to such awful pause, 
 
 Shutting up workshop, mill, and granary 
 God ! help us to obey thy laws. 
 
41 
 
 SABBATH MORNING REFLECTIONS. 
 
 A LL hail ! thou ancient wood and glen 
 Gleniffer here I come again, 
 
 Thus early in the Spring, 
 To view each soul-inspiring scene, 
 And hear thy birds in merry strain 
 Their Maker's praises sing. 
 
 Freed from the busy, swarming crowd 
 That seethe beneath yon smoky cloud 
 
 That rises o'er each him ; 
 To enjoy the sweets of secret prayer, 
 And breathe the caller morning air, 
 
 I early hither come. 
 
 blest retreat, where, free from toil, 
 How pleasing 'tis to muse a while 
 
 On that mysterious Power 
 Who formed this earth, these woods and glens, 
 These wild, romantic, rocky dens 
 
 Adorned with many a flower. 
 
42 
 
 Sure 'tis no crime on Sabbath mom, 
 Before the bells the people warn, 
 
 To mount the hill of prayer ; 
 To take a walk in sober mood, 
 And muse upon the Great and Good, 
 
 Who's present everywhere. 
 
 No ! thus removed from worldly strife 
 And all the busy cares of life, 
 
 In this retired abode, 
 The soul in solemn converse sweet, 
 Soars, as it were on wings, to meet 
 
 Its maker and its God. 
 
43 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ALLAN STEWART.* 
 
 i\ SAY not, my friends, that young ALLAN is dead I 
 
 It chills the warm blood in my veins I 
 For although the green turf now covers his head, 
 His spirit still hovers around, as we tread 
 The scenes now endear' d by his strains. 
 
 His shade still does linger by Cart's winding stream, 
 
 Where love's early passion he prov'd; 
 When "twilight's soft star on its bosom does beam," 
 To lovers unborn, on its banks that may dream, 
 He will whisper how dearly he lov'd. 
 
 " Down Inchinnan Loan," when the soft evening gale 
 Is fraught with the scent of the " peas," 
 
 * A young friend, the author of a posthumous volume of 
 poems, published the year after his decease, which took place 
 at Paisley, 12th November, 1837, when in his 26th year. The 
 above tribute to his memory appears in the volume referred to. 
 The respect of the two friends must have been mutual, Stewart, 
 in one of his principal pieces referring to his companion as 
 
 follows : 
 
 " such a lore as thine, 
 Congenial Picken, which doth here illume 
 Life's darkest winter with eternal bloom." 
 
44 
 
 On the zephyr's light wing his spirit does sail, 
 And echo is heard oft repeating the tale, 
 
 Of his love 'neath the old Douglas trees. 
 
 " Thy banks, bonny Gryfe I " shall resound with 
 his praise, 
 
 The scene of his childhood's fleet dream ; 
 Young lovers that woo by the " breckan-bush braes," 
 Will cherish his memory, and sing the sweet lays 
 
 He gave to his dear native stream I 
 
 His voice is still heard in " Glenpatrick's " cool 
 
 grove, 
 
 'Mid the soft hushing sound of the linn ; 
 And his spirit still dwells in the bower which he 
 
 wove 
 
 With sweet honeysuckle, to shelter his love, 
 Afar from the town's stirring din. 
 
 Then say not, my friends, that young ALLAN is dead I 
 
 It chills the warm blood in my veins ! 
 For although the green turf now covers his head, 
 His spirit still hovers around, as we tread 
 The scenes now endear'd by his strains! 
 
45 
 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 
 
 "VT OW the wintry winds are blowing 
 
 Bleak and cold athwart the lea, 
 And the streamlets cease from flowing 
 
 Freely onwards to the sea : 
 Stem frost has stayed their onward glide, 
 And snow enwraps the green hill-side ; 
 While all around the gazer's sight 
 Is an expanse of spotless white. 
 
 My muse, on days of pleasure dreaming, 
 
 Sings its waefu' tale to thee, 
 While the tears are downward streaming, 
 
 O'er hectic cheek from sorrowing e'e : 
 Yet, wherefore should these tears upstart, 
 Dragging deep sighs from my young heart ? 
 Had prudence led each step through life, 
 My sorrows had not been so rife. 
 
46 
 
 But thou art blythe and happy too 
 
 Ah ! thankfu' be that it is so ; 
 Long may'st thou thrive, my ain dear Hugh, 
 
 Each day may'st thou new pleasures know ; 
 And may thy wife, so kind and free, 
 Be spared to share each joy wi' thee, 
 From thy good de.eds may blessings rise 
 That Heaven will own, nor earth despise. 
 
 Long may the favours of kind Heaven 
 
 Keep thee and thine from sorrows free, 
 And may'st thou give as thou hast given, 
 
 To such as need thy charity, 
 May shrivelled poortith pass thy door, 
 
 Want's shadow never on it rest, 
 And, may thy basket and thy store, 
 
 Thine " oil and meal," be ever blest. 
 
47 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF JANET PICKEN. 
 
 Who died 13th June, 1850. 
 
 TTVEPARTED one I forgive these selfish tears, 
 Shed since thou left us and this world of woe; 
 
 Unmindful we that thou above the spheres 
 Liv'st in such bliss as mortals here below 
 Can only guess at. Still we hope to know 
 
 And taste with thee that bliss, when summoned 
 
 hence 
 From this to us now lonely, friendless, state ; 
 
 We'll join thee in thy Heavenly residence, 
 
 Where death nor grief shall ne'er disturb us more. 
 
 Then will our souls again assimilate, 
 
 As, ties renewed, together we adore 
 
 The great Almighty, who did consummate 
 
 Our bliss by Mercy's plan ; then, too, unfurled, 
 
 We'll view the mysteries of that Better World. 
 
48 
 
 TO A TRACT ABOUT TO BE POSTED 
 TO A DISTANT FRIEND. 
 
 little four-paged periodic tract, 
 With wood-cut of a dove with olive branch 
 
 descending, 
 I'll place another emblem* on thy back 
 
 To waft thee on thy distant path, as wending 
 Thy way, by night and day, o'er land and sea, 
 Through city, township, wilderness, prairie, 
 
 To where the links of civ'lised life are broken. 
 In loghouse, hut, or lonely shepherd's tent 
 
 Thou 'It find my friend, and be to him a token 
 That, though our separation I lament, 
 
 He's not of God nor yet of me forgotten ; 
 
 For sure thy page (with reverence be it spoken) 
 Points to God's grace and truth in every line 
 Thy date refers to Paisley and langsyne. 
 
 * The postage stamp. 
 
49 
 
 FAREWELL TO JAMES RONAM). 
 
 TTTHILE winter lingers in our vales, 
 
 And mingles March dust with his snaw, 
 The ship awaits propitious gales 
 
 To bear our worthy guest awa' ; 
 We've met this night in Boyle's large ha', 
 
 To bid farewell with loving hearts, 
 And pay him blythely, ane and a', 
 
 The tribute due to his deserts. 
 
 Friend Ronald's individual worth, 
 Although he strove to hide his name, 
 
 Has thus spontaneously called forth 
 
 His friends' and townsmen's loud acclaim 
 
 * Mr. James Ronald, first as a designer and finally as a manu- 
 facturer, was long connected with our local shawl trade. One 
 by one his near relations had settled in America, and, m.ore 
 in compliance with the wishes of his family than from any 
 particular longings of his own, he resolved to follow. The 
 valedictory meeting referred to in Mr. Picken's lines took 
 place in the spring of 1851, immediately previous to Mr. 
 Ronald's departure. Of liberal views in politics, Mr. Ronald 
 had a strong love for democratic institutions, and particularly 
 for the American form of government ; but during a ten years' 
 D 
 
50 
 
 In praise of him and those whose aim 
 Is to dethrone tyrannic might, 
 
 And gain, for all, the righteous claim 
 Which manhood has to Freedom's right. 
 
 Although he dwell in distant lands, 
 
 This tribute of respect and love 
 Will join us closer, heart and hands, 
 
 To give Reform another shove ; 
 Till, in progression's onward move, 
 
 Tyrannic power is paralysed, 
 And, with God's blessing from above, 
 
 The people shall be enfranchised. 
 
 residence in Detroit, this became considerably modified, his 
 blunt Scotch honesty causing him to speak out freely when 
 dissatisfied. Ultimately he settled in Canada, its institutions 
 and people proving in the end more in accordance with his 
 likings. Having acquired a moderate competency, he event- 
 ually relinquished business, and visited the mother country 
 more than once, During his last visit he had some thoughts 
 of settling permanently at home, under the impression that 
 his health would thereby be benefited ; but his attachment 
 to his family proved stronger than his wish to remain, and he 
 returned to America. His death took place at Chatham, 
 Ontario, on 22nd Dec., 1872, in his 64th year, in the midst of 
 his much loved family circle. 
 
51 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES PICKEN, 
 
 Who died 9th Sept., 1857. 
 
 nHHOUGH dead, his memory still is wreathed 
 
 Around our sorrowing hearts ; 
 In garlands he himself bequeathed 
 
 Ere from us he did part, 
 To join a sweet and happy band 
 Of friends in the mysterious land. 
 
 Why do we mourn when he is safe 
 
 Within his Father's home 1 
 Why do our hearts so keenly crave 
 
 For pleasures not their own 1 
 We, too, are pilgrims here below, 
 Throughout this world's changing show. 
 
 In life he was our stay and guide ; 
 
 His counsel and his smile, 
 When pressed with care on every side, 
 
 Our fears did oft beguile, 
 And raised fresh hopes within our breast 
 That lulled our carking thoughts to rest. 
 
52 
 
 In faith he lived, in faith he died, 
 
 And left us here behind, 
 To mourn another severed tie 
 
 Which time can never bind ; 
 For, as its tide shall onward flow 
 We'll think on him while here below. 
 
 His absence now we keenly feel ; 
 
 'Tis trying to sustain ; 
 Tears down our cheeks oft trickling steal, 
 
 Sure heralds of the pain 
 That, secret, lurks within our breast, 
 Though unmarred is his peaceful rest. 
 
 Oh, when we, meet ! How we'll regain 
 
 The friendship that is lost, 
 And, on sweet Canaan's radiant plain, 
 
 Join with the ransomed host 
 In songs triumphant to our God, 
 Who gave us such a blest abode. 
 
53 
 
 THE WEAVER'S CHILD.* 
 
 /"^ OD help thee, child ; with hardships soon 
 
 Thou hast become acquaint ; 
 Thy days did scarcely count a moon 
 When artificial tube and spoon 
 Supplied thy only want. 
 
 God help thee, child ! thy mother's sick, 
 
 Her care thou must forego ; 
 To lay upon her breast thy cheek, 
 And nestle there with lambish freak, 
 
 Is bliss thou canst not know. 
 
 * The end of 1857 was one of those periodic periods of de- 
 pression when the weavers of Paisley suffered considerably 
 from want of employment. From a note attached to these 
 verses in the Renfrewshire Independent, where they first 
 appeared, we learn that upwards of a thousand decent trades- 
 men were at the time out of employment, and that a consider- 
 able portion of them were enduring all the miseries consequent 
 on the loss of " daily bread." The verses in their manuscript 
 state had been of service to the suffering poor, and were in- 
 serted by their author in the journal referred to in the hope 
 that still greater results would follow, by their being read at 
 the firesides and parlour tables of the more affluent class. 
 
54 
 
 God help thee, child I thy father's poor ; 
 
 He cannot hire a nurse 
 To nourish thee and other four, 
 And thy sick mother ; ah ! 'tis more 
 
 Than workman can disburse. 
 
 God help thee, child ! the rich withhold 
 
 The very crumbs of wealth ; 
 They do not now, like Job of old, 
 Search out the cause of grief untold, 
 
 And give relief by stealth. 
 
 God help thee, child ! thy country's laws 
 
 Exclude thee from the parish ; 
 Unless th' Almighty God withdraws 
 Thy father's health like poor mamma's, 
 They never will thee cherish. 
 
 God help thee, child, for Jesus' sake ! 
 
 His bosom swelled with love 
 As little children he did take, 
 And thus to his disciples spake : 
 
 " Of such is Heaven above." 
 
STORIE STREET WELL. 
 
 SUNG BY THE AUTHOR, AT THE SOCIAL MEETING OF THE NATIVES 
 AND OLD RESIDENTERS OF STORIE STREET, HELD 
 
 16 Tn DECEMBER, 1853. 
 
 [The "Callans" of the various districts of Paisley have, dur- 
 ing the last five-and- twenty years, held annual social re-unions 
 of natives and residents of their respective localities, where 
 gentle and semple meet on the terms of perfect equality they did 
 in the olden days, when they "were boys together. " In general 
 these meetings are associated with some scheme of contribut- 
 ing, in the severities of the winter season, to the necessities of 
 the aged and deserving poor, and many a humble fire has burned 
 brighter in virtue of the well-considered kindnesses of these 
 homely gatherings. On these occasions old reminiscences are 
 freely brought up, old stories told, old jokes repeated ; and it 
 can be easily understood how these quaint and humorous lines, 
 read by the author, were relished by the Storie Street Callans 
 at their reunion of 16th December, 1853. Mr. Picken was a 
 native of Storie Street, where his family resided, and to it 
 through life he was warmly attached. The well, half-a-cen- 
 tury ago, was quite an institution ; the domestic water supply 
 at that time was all carried from these spring wells, in the 
 ' ' stoups, " of which every bien housewife had a pair. The pump 
 being the private property of those who contributed to its 
 upkeep, the handle in summer droughts was under chain and 
 padlock. Each afternoon about five o'clock it was unlocked 
 with an air of considerable importance by the custodiers of the 
 keys. Long before the hour of opening, the stoups began to 
 be placed, and sixty or seventy pairs might stand in rank and 
 file for the purpose of being filled. Strict justice was done ; 
 the first comer was first served, till all were supplied, when 
 the well was again locked up till next morning. " Lang 
 James " and " Tarn Houston " were two of the most notable 
 amongst the worthies who took charge. The "Rope-a-ree 
 
56 
 
 close " and "Goosedubs " lay near the head of the street, and 
 being at best inhabited by the "arabs" of the period, who 
 were always ready for a chance without troubling themselves 
 in the matter of pecuniary contribution, their denizens, when 
 they did come down "like the wolf on the fold," met with 
 unceremonious usage from Tarn, and were sent by his ill- 
 tongue in search of water to quarters where it was presumably 
 still scarcer than even in Storie Street when the wants of the 
 long line of applicants had been duly satisfied.] 
 
 Thou sweet, mnemonic, retrospective muse, 
 
 I know not if thou'rt classed amongst the Nine ; 
 But Scotchmen, when they meet for blythe carouse, 
 
 Invoke thee by the name of " Auld Langsyne : " 
 So hand in hand we will together join, 
 
 And quaintly to the " Paisley Gallons " tell 
 How lairds and tenants bravely did combine 
 
 To search for water in a deep sunk well, 
 
 Long ere the pipes were laid from sweet Gleniffer's dell." 
 
 117 1* drinking o' healths and pledging each toast, 
 I've emptied my bottle, and now I'm almost 
 Inclined to think, it would perhaps be as well 
 To fill up a bumper from Storie Street Well. 
 Its pump stands erect and still runs strong and clear. 
 Despite of the efforts of auld Dr. Kerr ; f 
 In a' the hail town scarce ane stands but itseP, 
 Sae famed is the water of Storie Street Well. 
 
 * i.e., Long before the town was supplied by gravitation 
 with water from the hillsides of Gleniffer. 
 
 t The great promoter of the Gravitation Water Scheme, and 
 whose monument is one of the most conspicuous erections 
 seen on entering our cemetery. 
 
57 
 
 Since Gleniffer water was brought to the town, 
 Some Bay the pump's useless and should be ta'en 
 
 down ; 
 
 But their principal reason, I guess, is to sell 
 And fuddle the pump of the Storie Street Well. 
 Na, na, let it stand ; it is still of some use, 
 E'en to those who would sell it ; when drapping 
 
 the booze 
 
 They kneel to its pump and say in to themseP 
 " It aye comes to water frae Storie Street Well." 
 
 Amang wells o' the town it aye bore the degree, 
 Of being the best for the making o' tea, 
 And our mothers, ye mind, did us aften compel 
 To tak' up the turn* at the Storie Street Well. 
 When water was scarce during summer's warm 
 
 drouth, 
 
 The stoups stood in raws to lang James's f close- 
 mouth ; 
 
 * The order of precedence secured by the placing of the 
 "stoups." 
 
 t A Storie Street worthy, who resided near the present en- 
 trance to the Priorscroft Bowling Green. 
 
58 
 
 And shifting their places caused many a gell, 
 Wi' the wives and the weans around Storie Street 
 Well. 
 
 Thrawn-gabbed Tarn Houston had charge o' its 
 
 keys, 
 
 And like others in office got mair than his fees ; 
 His private emoluments were valuabel. 
 For filling sly stoups at the Storie Street Well. 
 Frae the Rope-a-ree close, the Townhead and 
 
 Goose dubs, 
 
 The Irish came down wi' their pots and their tubs ; 
 111 tongu'd Tammy Houston whiles damn'd them 
 
 toh 1 
 Without a drap water frae Storie Street Well. 
 
 The householders held every year a franchise, 
 For appointing a board to get up the supplies ; 
 And when business was done they'd adjourn the 
 
 councel, 
 
 To some public house near the Storie Street Well. 
 The gill and the yill gave their humour the fang, 
 They bantered each other, they roared and they 
 
 sang; 
 
59 
 
 It would take a whole night a' the smart jokes 
 
 to tell, 
 That were cracked at the meetings of Storie 
 
 Street Well. 
 
 " Truth's hid in a well," as the auld proverb says ; 
 But the Well Committees, to their credit and praise, 
 Had truth in their dealings and friendsnip as well, 
 In a' their transactions of Storie Street Well. 
 Now Storie Street neighbours, I hope that my sang 
 Has been of some service in helping to fang 
 And good feeling draw out from each breast's 
 
 inmost cell, 
 As the pump draws the water frae Storie Street 
 
 Well. 
 
60 
 
 THE GHAIST 0' STORIE STREET WELL. 
 A EHYMTNG KHAPSODT. 
 
 [In the Spring of 1866, certain changes were made on the 
 old pump, and among other things a Cattle Trough attached 
 to it. All this was pure vandalism in the eyes of Mr. Picken, 
 and he was wont to resent it as a piece of ill-timed and un- 
 warrantable interference. He had too much of the poetic 
 temperament to suffer the destruction, on any mere plea of 
 practical utility, of what through long association had in his 
 eyes become venerable. Some little glorification and presen- 
 tation work, in the shape of "Gowden Specs " that took place 
 in connection with the changes, fairly roused his ire and 
 brought back even the ghost of " auld Tarn Houston's self " 
 to enable him to give expression to it.] 
 
 a PIRIT of the Water Spring, 
 
 That wells up through each strata ring 
 Of limestone, sandstone, mineral, iron, 
 Oh do come up and tune my lyre, on 
 A theme I really fear I'll tire on : 
 'Tis sae ludicrously complex, 
 Wi' Cattle Troughs " and " Gowden Specs," 
 An' personal names I scarce may spell, 
 Which, seeing " Truth lies in a well," 
 Had best be mentioned by yersel'. 
 
 Hush I for I hear a rumbling sound 
 Of something underneath the ground. 
 
61 
 
 I see a hoary mist arising, 
 Well, really this is most surprising. 
 Ha ! there's a Ghost or Water Kelpie, 
 Come, as I rashly prayed, to help me. 
 
 No, no ! 'tis neither Ghost nor Elf, 
 
 But simply auld TAM HOUSTON'S self. 
 
 Stand back, ye youngsters, swing nor jump 
 
 Nor play at leap-frog o'er the pump, 
 
 Or else, as he was wont, I'm thinking, 
 
 Auld Tarn '11 gie your lugs a clinking, 
 
 An' gar ye quat your fun and jinking. 
 
 For there he stan's, as I hae min', 
 
 In the same claise he wore langsyne, 
 
 Green worset apron, tied wi' string ; 
 
 Blue bonnet, wi' a checkered ring ; 
 
 His braces o'er his breeks hing slack, 
 
 See, ane is dangling at his back , 
 
 His stockings slobber o'er his kuites,* 
 
 Shod wi' a pair of bauchelledf boots. 
 
 Whilst ludicrous and strange phisog 
 
 His mouth is thrawn maist to his lug I 
 
 * Ancles. f Down in the heel. 
 
(A warning taught our early youth, 
 That horrid swearing thrawed his mouth.) 
 
 Dear me ! thae speerits o' the deed 
 
 Maun travel at a wondrous speed, 
 
 For, in the Ian' abune the well, 
 
 Whar Tarn langsyne abode himser, 
 
 He's noo strong at his ill-tongued jeering ; 
 
 An', as I am within the hearing, 
 
 I'll note it down without the sweeriiig. 
 
 " By a' that's guid," Tarn loudly sweers, 
 " I'll ring your misdeeds in your ears. 
 What richt had ye, for ony spree, 
 To bring this turmoil upon me ? 
 An', for mere praise unto yersel', 
 Pretend that ye've improved the well ? 
 I hae a mind to vex and teaze ye, 
 Till ye see self as ithers see ye. 
 Great need, indeed, o' mental specs 
 Hae ye to see yer ain defecs ! 
 For praise you've really sich an itching, 
 You couldna see your friends were bitching 
 Whan they gied you thae pinchbeck specs 
 In token o' their warm respecs 
 
63 
 
 Fur you, anent your late connection 
 
 With that great jaw-box trough erection. 
 
 But e'en for this I wadna cared 
 
 That 'bacca spittle o'er my beard, 
 
 Had you no sent unto the papers 
 
 A flash report o' a' your capers, 
 
 Bringing my old loved well to shame, 
 
 And a' connected wi' its name. 
 
 For this, atonement must be made 
 
 By printing every word I've said 
 
 In the next issue of the press ; 
 
 And if I don't get this redress, 
 
 By Jove by everything that's dear 
 
 I'll hae't proclaimed by Daunie Weir ! " 
 
 I heard nor saw nae mair o' Tarn ; 
 He gaed awa', swift as he cam', 
 In flaming rage at the presumption 
 And impudent and rash assumption 
 Of interlopers, weak and vain, 
 On his old cherished dear domain ; 
 But satisfied, beyond a doubt, 
 For ance he'd fairly spoken out, 
 An' tauld the meddlers to their face, 
 0' Ins ain dear auld well's disgrace. 
 
FRAGMENT 
 OF AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 
 
 "YTOU ask me oft why I come down 1 
 The reason why I'll frankly own ; 
 For sure it is a pleasant task 
 For me to grant what you may ask ; 
 Then take my answer, strong in rhyme, 
 It's true at least, if not sublime, 
 Void of that wit which makes a poet ; 
 But what it has I'm proud to show it. 
 
 Bards meantime are by no means scanty 
 
 I wish potatoes were as plenty, 
 
 We then might roast an average crop, 
 
 And for our living have some hope ; 
 
 But webs, and " duffs," * and coals are scarce 
 
 And nothing plentiful, but verse. 
 
 In every lane you'll find a score 
 
 Who verses write you've read before 
 
 * "Duffs," "spuds" colloquials for "potatoes." 
 
60 
 
 If they, by favour, can bespatter 
 
 A corner of the Liberator* 
 
 They deem their head a golden mint, 
 
 Though lead's the only ore that's iii't. 
 
 Their lines are like a worsted clout, 
 
 No sooner lichted than it's out 
 
 When all is dark as their own ink, 
 
 And nought remains, but smoke and stink ! 
 
 I know a spouting tap-room sot, 
 Had he but sense and learning got, 
 And a bold theme to build his fire on, 
 He thinks he'd far eclipse Lord Byron. 
 But poverty, the beldam slee, 
 Has locked his brains and lost the key I 
 Perhaps 'tis well such fate prevails, 
 Else who could work for reading tales ; 
 And here am I, without one verse 
 The twentieth century will rehearse, 
 Daring to wish that Madame Fame 
 Will not o'erlook my handsome name, 
 
 * A newspaper of extreme Liberal politics, published in 
 Glasgow about and after the Reform Bill agitation of 1831-2-3. 
 E 
 
But hand it down to future times 
 A meteor stuck above my rhymes ; 
 And, more than that, madly vain ! 
 I've wished the volume would contain. 
 What would you think 1 I blush to tell, 
 A likeness o' my bonnie seP ! 
 
 Unless fair genius show her smile, 
 
 A wish for fame's a reptile vile 
 
 That drain's the sap from reason's root, 
 
 And leaves proud man a speaking brute. 
 
 We tug our brains, scratch heads, and toil, 
 
 As if lamps could burn withouten oil. 
 
67 
 
 THE MARTYRS' GRAVE.* 
 
 /^\UR heath-clad hills and mountain caves 
 
 Are mark'd by battle-fields and Martyrs' 
 
 graves. 
 
 This stone records the last embattled stroke 
 Which Scotchmen struck at vile Oppression's yoke, 
 At BONNYMUIB they trod their native heath, 
 And sought a Warrior's or a Martyr's death. 
 Sad choice ! for there they found their enterprise 
 To force or claim Reform by armed surprise 
 Was circumvented and betrayed by spies ; 
 And thus ensnared in Treason's feudal laws, 
 Their personal honour in the people's cause 
 Compelled the fight which claims our pity and 
 applause. 
 
 * These lines were written as an inscription for the monu- 
 ment erected in Paisley Cemetery in 18G7, in honour of the 
 memories of Andrew Hardie and John Baird, who were exe- 
 cuted for high treason in 1820. Young and zealous, these 
 men took an active part in the political agitations of 1819-20, 
 which, there is too much reason to believe, were fostered and 
 encouraged by spies in the pay of Government. What would 
 now be regarded as little more than breaches of the peace 
 
68 
 
 were then construed into " compassing the death of the 
 King " ; and the unfortunate march of James Wilson of Strath - 
 aven, with a few enthusiasts like himself, in the direction of 
 Glasgow, the stopping of certain mills at Johnstone through 
 the influence of James Speirs and others, and the armed resist- 
 ance of Baird, Hardie, and their companions, at Bonnymuir, 
 near Stirling, to a troop of yeomanry who had been sent out 
 to disperse them, ended alike disastrously. James Wilson 
 was executed at Glasgow, 30th August, 1820 ; Baird and 
 Hardie at Stirling, on Sept. 8 ; while James Speirs, tried at 
 Paisley on 1st and 2nd August of the same year, was only 
 saved by the impossibility of securing a unanimous verdict, 
 rendered necessary by the English statute, under which the 
 Government, to increase the chances of conviction, resolved to 
 try him. The Radical weavers of Paisley necessarily sym- 
 pathised with the objects of Government persecution, and to 
 this day cherish the memories of Baird and Hardie, as mar- 
 tyrs in the highest sense of the term. Hence the monument 
 in question, and Mr. Picken's noble inscription. 
 
ELEGY ON WALTER PEACOCK,* 
 Towx's DurMiiEK IN PAISLEY. 
 
 "1 FOURN a' ye folks in Paisley toiin, 
 
 An' in its suburbs roiui' and roun', 
 For Wattie Pea'ock's past the gloom 
 
 .0' Death's dark shade; 
 An' 1100 he sleeps fu' fast an' soon 
 Amang the dead. 
 
 Hech, friens, hoo Time doth alter things I 
 He baith new folk an' fashions brings, 
 An' sweeps awa' wi' brushing wings 
 
 Baith laigh an' high, 
 E'en wha'd refresh our memory's springs 
 
 \M' things gane by. 
 
 * Walter Peacock was town drummer and ringer of the bell 
 of the Cross Steeple upwards of twenty years, but he was 
 better known by the name of "Wattie Paik." He had a 
 hersheugh lip, and consequently was a bad speaker ; and, 
 being of an irritable temper, he was tormented by boys 
 knocking on his drum when he had it shouldered, and mock- 
 ing his speech. He died about 1830. 
 
70 
 
 Since noo " Fire Rab " * an' Wattle's gane, 
 An' Johnny Lusk's to Poors-House ta'en,f 
 About the Cross, alack there's nane 
 
 0' ancient folk, 
 Except " Peastrae " J standing alane 
 
 At Weir's book-shop. 
 
 It's but shortsyne since I began 
 To watch the brief career o' man ; 
 
 * Robert Hart, weaver and fireman, better known by the 
 name of " Fire Rab " and " Fire in the Linwood," resided in 
 the Townhead of Paisley. The greatest fire he ever attended 
 was the burning of the Linwood Cotton Mill, which happened 
 on Friday, the 20th of November, 1801, when the mill was 
 burned to the ground. He was late in hearing of it, and ran 
 out the whole road 24 miles bawling " Fire in the Linwood 
 and me no there." In going to other fires afterwards, he 
 frequently roared at the height of his voice, "Fire in the 
 Linwood." Rab died in 1827. 
 
 f John Lusk, tailor, Townhead, was called "Wee Johnnie 
 Lusk." His name appears in the Directory for 1810. He 
 was an innocent body, and would not work, but lounged 
 about the flesh market. After his father's death he was taken 
 into the Town's Hospital, where he died. 
 
 J Robert Smith, well known by the soubriquet of "Pea- 
 strae," was a book auctioneer in Orr Square. He died in 
 1845, aged eighty years. 
 
 John Weir, bookseller, 104 Cross. He died about 1828. 
 
71 
 
 l>ut tlimu^'h nn' through I aye ha<- fan 1 
 
 It was the case 
 That as ane died, anither earn' 
 
 To fill his place. 
 
 But still it brings some smarting pain 
 To those wha're in the musing strain, 
 To pairt wi' them they thocht their ain 
 
 By wont and use, 
 Although, while here they did remain, 
 
 They got abuse. 
 
 I mind hoo, wi' a teasing train 
 0' bairns, I'd after Wattie gane, 
 An' at his drum whiles flung a stane 
 
 To gar it soun', 
 Whan wi' his sticks he'd chase us hame 
 
 Wi' cranted croon. 
 
 I mind, too, aften at the " drawing," * 
 Whan I at nicht asleep was fa'ing, 
 
 * The occupation of the great bulk of Paisley boys in the 
 first forty years of the century, the "draw-boy" being an 
 indispensable assistant at the harness-loom. The jacquard 
 machine has, however, during the last thirty years, so increased 
 
0' being cheered to hear the ca'ing 
 
 0' Wattle's bell ; 
 But noo, alas ! he's paid his la wing 
 
 An' sleeps himsel'. 
 
 An' whan, at rare times it befel, 
 He'd booze till he forgat himsel, 
 An' miss the ringing o' his bell 
 
 At ten o'clock, 
 Faith mony mair beside mysel' 
 
 He did provoke. 
 
 For then oor maisters, on the " push," * 
 Would never speir hoo hours did rush, 
 But wi' the wark would drive and brush 
 
 Wi' bickerin speed ; 
 Whilst worn and tired we'd aft en wish 
 
 That they were dead. 
 
 in use, as to make the draw-boy a thing of the past. The 
 draw-boy had to be at his master's call at all hours, early and 
 late ; and no doubt when ten o'clock arrived, he, tired and 
 sleepy, was cheered indeed 
 
 " To hear the ca'ing o' Wattle's bell." 
 
 * The master weaver working too often by fits and starts, 
 was frequently, at week-ends especially, on the "push," 
 making up for lost time. 
 
I'uir Watty! twenty years an' inair 
 The bell an' drum \\viv in lii.s c-ai- ; 
 An', noo his dead, it's only fair 
 
 For us to say 
 He did richt weel what to his share 
 
 Fell iii his day. 
 
 ALAS ! THEY'RE GONE WHO CHEERED ME. 
 
 i 
 
 FIGHT an aimless battle 
 
 With this world's tittle tattle, 
 But no ray of hope or pleasure lights the way ; 
 For they are gone who cheered me, 
 Though some are left who please me ; 
 But soon, too, I must follow on the way. 
 
 In my days of youthful pleasure, 
 I never dreamt ah, never ! 
 
 That my joys thus would wither and decay ; 
 For though tried friends are near me, 
 Who by acts of love oft cheer me, 
 
 Still, the old remembered faces are away. 
 
74 
 
 ON READING A BURLESQUE SERMON 
 TO BACHELORS. 
 
 " The course of true love never did run smooth." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 TH HIS mimic preacher would have men to woo 
 
 As doth a tom-cat on a bam or stable ; 
 When maukins will not listen to his mew 
 
 He leaps right through the bole-hole of the gable, 
 And there shrieks out another yello-hoo 
 
 In hopes to fascinate some other female, 
 Caring not whether she be black or white, 
 Provided she but condescends to bite. 
 
 With most men, wooing' s quite another thing 
 Their amours are not just so migratory : 
 
 The impression of an early love will cling 
 
 Unto their heart until their head grows hoary. 
 
 Nay, many instances I could easily bring, 
 Alike from ancient and from modern story, 
 
 Of dying men who even spoke with gladness 
 
 Of meeting soon the cause of their long cartlily 
 sadness. 
 
75 
 
 A LIGHT TO LIGHTEN THOSE WHO 
 LEAPT INTO POLITICAL DARKNESS. 
 
 TTTHEN Whig and Tory, for reform, 
 
 Arranged the household mark, 
 Each party swithered to perform 
 The " leap into the dark." * 
 
 Since then. Bill Gladstone's led the way,t 
 
 And has been very busy, 
 Reducing Church and State outlay, 
 
 Despite of Mr. Dizzy. 
 
 But since the Franco-Prussian war, 
 The Tories, apprehensive 
 
 * Mr. Disraeli's outbidding of Mr. Gladstone, by extending 
 the suffrage to householders while his rival had proposed 
 only a 7 rental qualification, took the breath alike from 
 Whig and Tory, and was well named " a leap in the dark." " 
 
 t Mr. Gladstone, in virtue of the sweeping majority of 
 Whig members returned under the extended suffrage, replaced 
 Mr. Disraeli in office before the meeting of the New Parlia- 
 ment, the latter having seen the hopelessness of meeting, as 
 Prime Minister, the Parliament of his own creation. During 
 the succeeding five years Mr. Gladstone was indeed " very,"- 
 perhaps overly, " busy. " 
 
That our neutrality might jar 
 With movements so extensive, 
 
 V 
 
 Got^up the outcry'in their jieed 
 " Increase our coast defences," 
 
 Which made"our outlay far exceed 
 A prudent year's expenses. 
 
 Then'came the proof of the remark 
 
 On the enlarged franchise ; 
 Each party groping in the dark 
 
 To find new taxjsupplies. 
 
 The Exchequer struck a match-box spark, * 
 
 From which a light did rise, 
 Of burning words spoke in Hyde Park, f 
 
 Which opened all their eyes. 
 
 Both parties now may plainly see 
 The truth, 'twill hide no longer, 
 
 * Mr. Lowe's proposal to tax lucifer matches, 
 t The populace, it will be remembered, held monster meet- 
 ings in Hyde Park, and literally spoke burning words on this 
 
77 
 
 Of Byron's bird-sung prophecy 
 " The people are the stronger." 
 
 Taxation's burden now must be 
 
 Laid equal on each class ; 
 For working-men will not woo-gee, 
 
 And bear it like an ass. 
 
 The landed aristocracy 
 
 Must learn proportion's rule ; 
 
 Also, some lessons in the Free 
 Commercial Reading ScJiool, 
 
 That they may comprehend more clear 
 
 Taxation's Indicator, 
 A book revised every year 
 
 By one called Valuator. 
 
 May, 1871. 
 
78 
 
 SCHOOL BOARD ELECTIONS AND COMIC 
 CARTOONS.* 
 
 (APRIL, 1873.) 
 
 TN the heat of the School Board elections, 
 
 Cartoons, with a comic grimace, 
 Burlesqued the dear old Scottish questions 
 Concerning the doctrines of grace. 
 
 The artist referred to " foreknowledge," 
 
 An attribute purely divine, 
 The learning of no school or college 
 
 Can grasp the Almighty design. 
 
 They may laugh, they may jeer, they may pun, 
 And for false explanations may look ; 
 
 * In the first election to the School Boards, in April, 1873, an 
 intense amount of excitement was manifested on the ques- 
 tion of Bible and Catechism teaching in the new schools ; 
 and, feeling running high, the satire of those opposed to 
 Bible and Catechism occasionally bordered on the irreverent. 
 In Paisley, one or two cartoons exhibited gave as much evi- 
 dence of wit as of wisdom, and shocked the better sense of 
 the seriously-minded. Mr. Picken, attached to the good old 
 ways, and especially to the "Old Question Book," was evi- 
 dently troubled at any burlesquing of "dear old Scottish 
 questions concerning the doctrines of grace. " 
 
79 
 
 But of modern productions, not one 
 
 Can compare with the Old Question Book. 
 
 Tlu's election, with pencil-mark crosses, * 
 
 Will serve to illustrate the case. 
 Nine only can win, while ten loses ; f 
 
 Yet each candidate works for a place. 
 
 Some parties may guess and surmise, 
 
 Split their votes, or bestow them in plump, J 
 
 But the truth stiU is hid from their eyes. 
 Till officially added in slump. 
 
 Time is up ! all the boxes are sealed, 
 The Board is already elected ; 
 
 * Each voter marked on the Ballot slips, with a pencil- 
 cross, the names he or she selected. 
 
 t Nineteen candidates stood for the nine vacancies. 
 
 : The cumulative vote being allowed under the Educatioi 
 Act, each voter could give one or more votes, up to nine, am 
 these could be concentrated on one candidate, or split over a* 
 many as was considered desirable, Some of the candidates 
 returned by the largest number of votes had the smallest 
 number of voters, these having plumped, or given their entire 
 nine votes to their favourite, so that his election might be 
 made secure. Less partizan voters split or divided their votes 
 over the candidates akin to them in sentiment. 
 
80 
 
 Of the nineteen names therein concealed 
 Nine are chosen, and ten are rejected. 
 
 The ballot, in darkness and doubt, 
 
 Veils our senses from aiding our reason, 
 
 A precarious practice throughout, 
 
 Tempting Emperors and tyrants to treason. * 
 
 But the gospel election is free, 
 
 Without even the shade of a doubt, 
 
 The call is, " Who cometh to me 
 I'll in no way reject or cast out." 
 
 Things earthly we misapprehend, 
 When our bodily senses are blinded ; 
 
 But by prayer heavenly things recommend . 
 Themselves to the heavenly-minded. 
 
 Our redemption is bought with a price, 
 And sealed by Christ's blood on the cross, 
 
 And the grand covenanted invoice 
 Has no margin of probable loss. 
 
 * A reference, probably, to the plebiscites of Napoleon III. 
 
81 
 
 From sin's curse, God iii Christ sets us free ; 
 
 Constrained by his love, we love others, 
 And this is assurance that we 
 
 Are adopted God's sons and Christ's brothers. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 IPiEAR S , thou oft remindst me of 
 
 A beauteous bed of flowers, 
 Grown wild for want of culture's hand 
 To guide its spreading powers. 
 
 Were education but bestowed 
 
 Upon thy fertile mind, 
 The flowers which nature planted there 
 
 Would blossom more refined. 
 
82 
 
 THE SCHOOL BOARD AND THE DRILL 
 HALL INDIGNATION MEETING.* 
 
 TTTHILE standing at the Cross the other day, 
 
 With other idlef weavers, idly talking, 
 Merely to wile the tedious hours away 
 
 (The equinoctial gales prevented walking), 
 One subject of our varied colloquy 
 
 Gave rise to thoughts which I've thought 
 
 worthy chalking 
 
 Down into rhyme ; for I can't check or bridle 
 My town-bred rnuse when I am going idle. 
 
 Lest some should deem my verses stark mad prose, 
 I will, with two-three words of explanation, 
 
 Shortly my heart-felt inward thoughts disclose, 
 Touching this scheme of National Education, 
 
 * A public meeting held in the Drill Hall, 16th Sept., 1874, 
 to remonstrate against the proposed School Rate, and the ex- 
 travagant ideas, as the promoters held it, of the School Board 
 in regard to buildings. 
 
 t A local term for want of employment. 
 
83 
 
 And of the conduct of such as oppose 
 
 Our local School Board's wise administration. 
 Fie ! Paisley, fie ! the first to give annoyance 
 To modern, broad, sound, views of Social Science. 
 
 Daughters and sons of Paisley, by your votes 
 You chose nine men to set your schools agoing ; 
 
 They made the philanthropic THOMAS COATS 
 
 Their chairman, thereby to you plainly showing, 
 
 Although your voting was like casting lots, * 
 You had got men whose hearts were warmly 
 glowing 
 
 With the desire to elevate the masses, 
 
 And healthy school-room give to all the varied 
 classes. 
 
 Grant that the School Board's plan for space 
 
 exceeds 
 The strict requirements of the legislative 
 
 measure, 
 
 What then ? The Chairman to his noble deeds 
 Adds yet another from his personal treasure : 
 
 * i.e., by ballot. 
 
84 
 
 Give but the children what he thinks their needs, 
 Hell pay the extras with good- will and pleasure. 
 Actions like this mankind delight to honour ; 
 Men yet unborn will bless this worthy donor.* 
 
 Like the Apostle Paul, I may exclaim 
 
 Oh, foolish working men ! Who hath bewitched 
 
 you 
 
 To crowd the Drill Hall thus, and join acclaim 
 With cunning ones who'd, by their logic, teach 
 
 you 
 
 To think your interest and theirs the same 1 
 Because they need your help they thus beseech 
 
 you 
 
 To join them in their sordid indignation 
 And their ill-judged, unpatriotic deputation, f 
 
 * Mr. COATS, anxious to give the maximum amount of air and 
 space in the new schools to the children, without unduly 
 alarming the economical narrowness that had been manifested 
 by the promoters of the Drill Hall meeting, generously offered 
 to personally meet all the extra cost. that would be incurred 
 over that of complying with the strict requirements of the 
 statute. An offer involving a probable gift of from 4000 to 
 5000. 
 
 t The deputation sent to the Central Board, at Edin- 
 burgh, to prevent, if possible, the adoption of the building 
 
Workmen ! for your dear children's sake be wise ; 
 
 For them you are in duty bound to labour ; 
 If you receive your labour's proper prize, 
 
 Then pay the school-rates with your richer 
 
 neighbour : 
 For children's sake use wisely the franchise, 
 
 The Act is altogether in their favour. 
 If you can't pay the rates, the parish must. 
 For Labour, thus, the Schools are held in trust. 
 
 If selfish men oppress the labouring poor, 
 And render them unfit to do their duty, 
 
 This Education measure points a cure, 
 
 The law of which is full of heavenly beauty. 
 
 In the school-rate, oppressors must restore 
 Us back a portion of extorted booty. 
 
 More laws like this would lead men to enquire 
 
 Who pays, and who pays not, for Labour's hire. 
 
 October, 1874. 
 
 plans adopted by the local board. The plans having been in 
 the end duly sanctioned, the spirit of contention rapidly died 
 away. 
 
THE TANNAHILL CENTENARY, 
 
 SUB JUNE, 1874. 
 
 This fragment, the last lines written by Mr. Picken, 
 forms but the commencement of what might have been a 
 poem of some length. The verses have been printed from 
 the first draftings in pencil in which there is little evidence 
 of their having undergone much revision or correction at his 
 hand. 
 
 i~\ LEAVE me not, my quaint, descriptive Muse, 
 Before we part we'll wander up the hill, 
 
 And, in some bushy, cozie den, peruse 
 The published record of our Tannahill 
 Centenary. 'Twill make my bosom thrill 
 
 With the warm glow of brighter, younger years ; 
 For now I'm old, and could not press uphill 
 
 To join the throng and hear their joyous cheers, 
 
 That Tannahill's sweet songs have stood the test 
 of years. 
 
 Aye, Tannahill ! thy beautiful word-pictures, 
 
 Wed to the lyre by the musician's art 
 On memory's leaves, are photographic fixtures 
 
87 
 
 That form an album in a Scotsman's heart ; 
 
 And should he from his native home depart, 
 Following life's fortunes, or by land or sea, 
 
 His youthful loves and sylvan walks will start 
 As thrilling echoes of sweet memorie 
 At the soft notes o' " Bonnie Craigielea." 
 
 The maiden of his early love, who 'mong 
 
 Her friends and kindred waits for his return, 
 Finds, too, a solace in thy gushing song, 
 
 And sings "Langsyne, beside the woodland 
 burn;" 
 
 Or, should her thoughts take still another turn, 
 And muse on wintry scenes round "Stanley shaw," 
 
 Where songless birds on leafless twigs but mourn 
 Or chirp and flutter 'mongst the drifting snaw, 
 She pities them, and thinks on him that's "far awa'." 
 
 And should they meet beside the " Dusky Glen," 
 Or climb, in thought, " Glenkilloch's sunny brae," 
 
 They recognise each rocky, foggy den 
 
 With "feathery breckans" hung, wherein they 
 
 lay 
 Langsyne, to shun the gowden, sunny, ray. 
 
Returning home, they pass the " birken shaw," 
 
 Its rose suggests sweet talk, they name the day, 
 Heedless alike of " cankert minnie's " say ; 
 Aye, though their bridal bed should be " o' clean 
 pea-strae." 
 
 But stop, my muse ! We're on a dangerous path ; 
 
 His done muse to alter or construe, 
 I fear, may only make my reader laugh, 
 
 And say that really I've writ nothing new : 
 
 When I began, the theme I had in view 
 Was to describe the Tannahill ovation, 
 
 So by thy leave we'll make the start anew, 
 And write a short sketch of the demonstration, 
 Ending, it may be, with some gaudy peroration. 
 
 The morning star does scarcely usher in 
 
 This third June morning's dawn on Paisley town, 
 
 When young and old, with joyous hearts, begin 
 To honour her who wears our royal crown, 
 And him who gave to us a new renown. 
 
 A mutual tribute this to Queen and Bard, * 
 
 * The local celebration of Her Majesty's birth-day was 
 fixed for 3rd June the centenary of Tannahill to avoid the 
 necessity of two holidays coining too close together. 
 
89 
 
 To him of whom the critics freely own 
 His songs have earned the minstrels' proud reward, 
 Their country's favour, and their Queen's regard. 
 
 Why thus connect his hundredth natal day 
 
 And fifty-fifth of our beloved Queen ? 
 The reason is, to make one holiday 
 
 Out of two halves, with scarce a week between. 
 
 A brighter sunny day is rarely seen ; 
 The people in their holiday attire, 
 
 To music's march, in companies convene, 
 Love, loyalty, and song, their breasts inspire, 
 To form with Nature's self a most harmonious 
 choir. 
 
 Paisley, indeed, is nicely decked this mom 
 With floral arches, interspersed with green, 
 
 And everywhere the smile of pride is borne 
 Upon each face. Each actor on the scene, 
 The hoary head, or youth of scarce eighteen, 
 
 Wears the same happy smile, devoid of scorn. 
 Old "Seestu's" sons and daughters both, I 
 ween, 
 
90 
 
 Are emulous of each other, to adorn 
 
 And " leafify " the town where Tannahill was bom. 
 
 Sweet Bard, thy songs alike may cheer the heart 
 Of strolling beggar or of titled squire ; 
 
 Upon life's stage thou nobly didst thy part, 
 Till reason left thee, and thou didst expire, 
 Thy worth unknown. But, as the smouldering 
 fire 
 
 That burns unseen, bursts out into a glow, 
 
 So bursts thy fame, which men at length desire 
 
 To honour, and, that all the world may know 
 
 Of their regard, have framed this proud imposing 
 show. 
 
91 
 
 FREE BREAKFASTS AND BONDED 
 LIGHTS. 
 
 [Written on Mr. Lowe's famous attempt to impose a tax on 
 lucifer matches, which collapsed before the floods of opposi- 
 tion and raillery with which it was assailed. The cry for a 
 Free Breakfast table Mr. Picken held inconsistent with the 
 attempt to tax the match that lit the morning fire.] 
 
 breakfasts to the working man ! " 
 John Bull doth growl and mutter, 
 " Free breakfasts ; bait me if you can 
 
 With untaxed bread and butter ! 
 What ! tax the very match's flame 
 With which I lit my fire 1 Oh, shame 
 Upon sucn Low(e) cave-born* finesse 
 As tries to make our humble comforts less." 
 
 April, 1871. 
 
 * In allusion to the "Cave of Adullam," the master 
 stroke of sarcasm which Mr. Bright applied to Mr. Lowe and 
 his party regarding their conduct on the Reform Bill of 1868. 
 
92 
 WHIGS AND TORIES. 
 
 A. D. 1839. 
 
 4 LTHOUGH the Tories noo are gone, 
 
 Wi' a' their base intrigues, 
 The Radicals maun still anon 
 
 Be wary o' the Whigs. 
 The battle noo is but begun, 
 
 Though we the " Bill " ha'e got, 
 An' whether we're to lose or win 
 Depends on how we vote. 
 
 We can o' Whigs an' Tories trace 
 
 Nae difference but in name ; 
 They baith are bent on power and place, 
 
 Their creeds are much the same. 
 In power, the Whigs are Tories then, 
 
 The Tories they are Whigs 
 I've said, and frankly say't again, 
 
 " They're a' the same sow's pigs." 
 
 We thought, if Whigs got into power, 
 That Britain would be free ; 
 
At all events, we might be sure 
 
 A mighty change to see. 
 'Bout things they used to roar against 
 
 They never noo play cheep, 
 And feint a hait to us restore 
 
 But what they canna keep. 
 
 " Monopolies " nae mair engage ; 
 
 " The Debt " they never heed ; 
 Baith " Universal Suffrage " 
 
 An' " Vote by Ballot " 's dead. 
 0' " Annual Parliaments " nae mair 
 
 We hear a single word, 
 And mony a thing is noo deemed fair 
 
 That ance appeared absurd. 
 
 Then send baith Whigs and Tories hence ; 
 
 Employ anither sort, 
 Frae 'mang oursel's choose men o' sense, 
 
 Though we should them support 
 Men who will neither " gee " nor " gwine "- 
 
 Reformers to the bone, 
 Pledged to the teeth to tell our min' 
 
 In a determined tone. 
 
94 
 
 Then follow ye what I advise, 
 
 AH' soon the day will come, 
 Whan we'll our Whigs an' Tories rise, 
 
 An' gar them baith sing dumb. 
 I trust we'll gie posterity 
 
 The pleasant tale to tell, 
 We sent the Whigs to Purgatory, 
 
 The Tories to ah ! weU. 
 
TOM HOOD IN A FIX. 
 
 AN IMPROMPTU FOR THE CLUB. 
 
 droll TOM HOOD, the other week, 
 Tells us his fancy took a freak, 
 Amid the fumes of toddy reek 
 In his own dwelling, 
 To find out whiskey's name in Greek, 
 But failed in spelling. 
 
 Should he come short in qualitie, 
 
 As thus in etymologie, 
 
 We'd have him come down here and see, 
 
 By bead or measure, 
 Nae liquor e'er can bear the gree 
 
 Wi' Peters treasure.* 
 1873. 
 
 * The landlord's best. 
 
THE NEW YEAR EXPECTANT. 
 
 /^iLICK, click, goes the clock 
 
 Through these quiet nocturnal hours ; 
 
 I will rise and take a smoke, 
 
 And look its index, by the powers 
 
 Of this little Congreve light : 
 
 Hah! that dogged silent wight, 
 Old Time's railway stoker, 
 Has been driving with his poker 
 
 In a most unusual way. 
 
 Faith he's passed the New Year station 
 Whilst I've slept off the libation 
 
 That I drank on Hogmanay. 
 
 TO SANCT CRISPIN. 
 
 "i/TY wants are so great that I really am scant 
 
 E'en for bauchels to cover my cloots ; 
 Do therefore insist on your men, Mr. Sanct, 
 To make haste with my pair of new boots. 
 
97 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 f\ DEAR, what a slop ! 
 
 Husband, I see you're still tipsy." 
 4< I haven't, my dear, ta'en a drop 
 
 This same blessed year of that whisky." 
 " Had you staid in bed all the day, 
 We had not had this hubbub affray." 
 
 " Your personal allusion 
 
 Is quite a wrong conclusion. 
 This morning, d' ye see, 
 
 It was my destiny to get up ; 
 
 I had no thought of this kick up ; 
 It was it was involuntary ! " 
 
SONGS. 
 
 THE GALLANT PAISLEY WEAVER.* 
 
 Tune "Weavers' March." 
 
 " Where Cart rins rowin' to the sea, 
 By many a flower and spreading tree, 
 There lives a lad, the lad for me, 
 And he's a gallant weaver." 
 
 rPHUS Robin Burns did sing the praise 
 
 0' Paisley weavers in his days ; 
 Unless they had deserved his lays 
 He ne'er had sung o' weavers. 
 
 Bums tells us, too, I maun remark, 
 
 \ 
 
 That strappin' Nannie's cutty sark 
 (The lass that chas'd Tarn in the dark) 
 Cam' frae the Paisley weavers. 
 
 * The Paisley weavers, like other trades, indulged for 
 several years in an annual excursion by rail or river. On 
 the occasion of their third annual excursion, their pilgri- 
 
100 
 
 And since they wove that sark o' harn, 
 They've wrocht a' sorts o' waft and yarn- 
 Nocht comes amiss to han' or brain 
 0' clever Paisley weavers. 
 
 Of weaving silk they learned the knack 
 Baith plain and figured they did mak ; 
 Sae rich in texture, ilk ane spak 
 In praise o' Paisley weavers. 
 
 And then cam' in the cotton trade, 
 The finest muslin e'er was made, 
 And rich full harness flower' d brocade, 
 Were wrocht by Paisley weavers. 
 
 The Indiana woollen plaid, 
 
 In a' the checks Scots clans supplied, 
 
 An' tartan dresses short an' side, 
 
 Are wrocht by Paisley weavers. 
 
 mage was to the Land of Burns, the number of passengers 
 on the occasion numbering about 1800. The day is recorded 
 to have been one of sunshine and brilliance, and everything 
 went off satisfactorily. The above song was Mr. Picken's 
 contribution to the enjoyment of the day. 
 
101 
 
 The richest dress worn at a ball, 
 The Queen's and Madame Kossuth's* shawl, 
 Whate'er the ladies " fancy " call, 
 Is'wrocht by Paisley weavers. 
 
 But if my hearers think this strain 
 O' panegyric rather vain, 
 Excuse me, for I'm in a train 
 
 Wi' near twa thousan' weavers. 
 
 Forbye, I've got a gey bit tift 
 0' guid Scotch drink, whilk tends to lift 
 Some ither folk abune their height 
 As weel's a Paisley weaver. 
 
 And 'twas a spirit-stirring scene 
 To whilk we short syne bade gude e'en, 
 The sacred fane o' our auld frien' 
 That sang o' Paisley weavers. 
 
 * The lady of Louis Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, was 
 presented with a choice specimen of the Paisley Shawl, by 
 the united weavers. 
 
102 
 
 Their praises langer I micht sing, 
 But here my Jeanie, winsome tiling, 
 Has gien my shouther a bit ding, 
 
 An' whispered " quat your havers ! '' 
 
103 
 
 WHEN YOU AND I, JEANNIE. 
 
 TTTHEN you and I, Jeannie, were wee things 
 
 thegither, 
 
 Boon by the burn-side we aften did stray; 
 An' walked hand in hand like a sister and brither, 
 An' pu'd the sweet wild flowers that grew by 
 the way. 
 
 An' while that you gathered the primrose and 
 
 violet 
 That grew 'mang the grass 'neath the wide 
 
 spreading thorn, 
 
 I o'er in the wild wood did search for each floweret 
 I thought was most worthy thy breast to adorn. 
 
 Ah, few were my cares in those days of my child- 
 hood, 
 Compared with the many that now load my 
 
 breast ; 
 Nae mair will we seek our sweet flowers in the 
 
 wild wood, 
 Xae mair will I ever again feel so blest. 
 
104 
 
 WAE'S ME! 
 
 f OSH me, ye are blest an' ken naething ava, 
 Ye ha'e got a gudeman an' a house stocked 
 
 fu' braw ; 
 
 But though I've aye dune, an' still dae what I can, 
 I ha'e ne'er had the luck yet to get a gudeman. 
 
 Wae's me ! 
 
 I crack weel wi' a' the auld lads that I ken 
 But deed they're no lads noo, they're sensible men 
 I coax them an' flatter as weel as I can, 
 An' ha'e dune an' said a', but "Come o' be my man." 
 
 Wae's me ! 
 
 Ye'll think maybe I'm joking ; hech, sirs, no ava, 
 For I've stept o'er the borders o' twa score an' twa; 
 Keep your thumb on that, Liz, for it may be I'm 
 
 wrang 
 
 There are aulder than me that ha'e gotten a man. 
 
 Wae's me ! 
 
105 
 
 Gi'e me the same chance as I had years gane by, 
 Liko a cock at a grossart, I'll snap at the fly ; 
 But Lizzie, my lass, could you no draw a plan 
 That would airt me at ance tae a canny gudem.-i u. 
 
 Wae's me ! 
 
 But don't say a word to my auld cronie, Nell, 
 For she's aulder than me, that ye ken we el yoursel' ; 
 Let us min' our ain han' an' plan we el our plan, 
 An' wha kens how sune I may get a gudemau. 
 
 Wae's me ! 
 
106 
 
 "HEART'S-EASE." 
 
 "VT OW, Ladies, when you sail, 
 
 By steamboat or by rail, 
 Do not sigh so and bewail 
 
 At a piteous mischance, 
 Such as some one treading down 
 The crinoline of your gown ; 
 Oh, do not call him clown ! 
 
 Rather give a favouring glance ; 
 Resolve to be serene and pleased 
 
 Wherever you may go, 
 Even though the creature comforts 
 
 Should be, ah, well ! so, so. 
 Your smiles incite the 'gentlemen 
 
 To do their best to please, 
 And add, as brawly ye a' ken, 
 
 Unto your ain " Heart's-ease." 
 
 Dear Creatures, when you meet, 
 In drawing-room or street, 
 A gent not quite complete 
 
 In the etiquette of France, 
 
107 
 
 Do not spoil your face by frown, 
 
 Enough to knock him down ; 
 
 Such deeds you must disown 
 
 If your aims are to entrance. 
 
 Take all things in good part- 
 Even when you can't agree ; 
 
 For thus you'll gain the heart 
 Of the gentlemen you see. 
 
 They all will then admire, 
 
 And do their best to please, 
 
 AYhich adds, as brawly ye a' ken, 
 Unto your ain " Heart's-ease." 
 
 And, Gentlemen, be smart, 
 For you know it is your part 
 To be on the alert, 
 
 To serve each lady fair ; 
 
 If a seat you can command, 
 
 
 
 When you see a lady stand, 
 Just take her by the hand 
 
 And bow her to a chair. 
 Attend thus to the ladies, 
 
 AYlierever you may go 
 Your mother, or your sister, 
 
108 
 
 Or your lady-love ho ! ho ! 
 Aye do the best you can, 
 
 Each damsel fair to please, 
 'Twill ever bring its own reward 
 
 In your ain " Heart's-ease." 
 
 Then, Gentlemen, attend ; 
 You the ladies must defend, 
 'Tis on you that they depend; 
 
 Dare any one say No ? 
 Though you find not one so meek 
 As your inward fancies seek, 
 Oh, never wet her cheek 
 
 By causing tear to flow. 
 Far rather win a smile 
 
 From the sweet lips of the fair ; 
 And mind, in ancient style, 
 
 It takesHwo to make a pair. 
 By bearing this in mind, 
 
 You're always sure to please, 
 And be ever adding to the stock 
 
 Of your ain " Heart's-ease." 
 
 THE END. 
 
VC15643O