Lines On Fergusson, The Poet

Ill-fated genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson!

What heart that feels and will not yield a tear, To think Life's sun did set e'er well begun To shed its influence on thy bright career.

O why should truest Worth and Genius pine Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe, While t.i.tled knaves and idiot--Greatness shine In all the splendour Fortune can bestow?

The Weary Pund O' Tow

Chorus.--The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o' tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow.

I bought my wife a stane o' lint, As gude as e'er did grow, And a' that she has made o' that Is ae puir pund o' tow.

The weary pund, &c.

There sat a bottle in a bole, Beyont the ingle low; And aye she took the t.i.ther souk, To drouk the stourie tow.

The weary pund, &c.

Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame, Gae spin your tap o' tow!

She took the rock, and wi' a knock, She brak it o'er my pow.

The weary pund, &c.

At last her feet--I sang to see't!

Gaed foremost o'er the knowe, And or I wad anither jad, I'll wallop in a tow.

The weary pund, &c.

When She Cam' Ben She Bobbed

O when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law, O when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law, And when she cam' ben, she kiss'd c.o.c.kpen, And syne denied she did it at a'.

And was na c.o.c.kpen right saucy witha'?

And was na c.o.c.kpen right saucy witha'?

In leaving the daughter of a lord, And kissin' a collier la.s.sie an' a'!

O never look down, my la.s.sie, at a', O never look down, my la.s.sie, at a', Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete, As the finest dame in castle or ha'.

Tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma', Tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma', Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handiwark, And lady Jean was never sae braw.

Scroggam, My Dearie

There was a wife wonn'd in c.o.c.kpen, Scroggam; She brew'd gude ale for gentlemen; Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.

The gudewife's dochter fell in a fever, Scroggam; The priest o' the parish he fell in anither; Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.

They laid the twa i' the bed thegither, Scroggam; That the heat o' the tane might cool the t.i.ther; Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.

My Collier Laddie

"Whare live ye, my bonie la.s.s?

And tell me what they ca' ye;"

"My name," she says, "is mistress Jean, And I follow the Collier laddie."

"My name, she says, &c.

"See you not yon hills and dales The sun shines on sae brawlie; They a' are mine, and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie.

"They a' are mine, &c.

"Ye shall gang in gay attire, Weel buskit up sae gaudy; And ane to wait on every hand, Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie."

"And ane to wait, &c.

"Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on, And the earth conceals sae lowly, I wad turn my back on you and it a', And embrace my Collier laddie.

"I wad turn my back, &c.

"I can win my five pennies in a day, An' spen't at night fu' brawlie: And make my bed in the collier's neuk, And lie down wi' my Collier laddie.

"And make my bed, &c.

"Love for love is the bargain for me, Tho' the wee cot-house should haud me; and the warld before me to win my bread, And fair fa' my Collier laddie!"

"And the warld before me, &c.

Sic A Wife As Willie Had

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca'd it Link.u.mdoddie; Willie was a wabster gude, Could stown a clue wi' ony body: He had a wife was dour and din, O Tinkler Maidgie was her mither; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a b.u.t.ton for her!

She has an e'e, she has but ane, The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller: A whiskin beard about her mou', Her nose and chin they threaten ither; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wadna gie a b.u.t.ton for her!

She's bow-hough'd, she's hein-shin'd, Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter; She's twisted right, she's twisted left, To balance fair in ilka quarter: She has a lump upon her breast, The twin o' that upon her shouther; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wadna gie a b.u.t.ton for her!

Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, An' wi' her loof her face a-washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan Water; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wadna gie a b.u.t.ton for her!

Lady Mary Ann

O lady Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa', She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba', The youngest he was the flower amang them a', My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.