22
Ha’e ye seen the bird, fast fleein’,
Drap, when pierced by death mair fleet?
Then see Jean, wi’colour deein’
Senseless drop at Willie's feet!
After three lang years’ affliction
(A’ their woes now hushed to rest),
Jean auce mair, in fond affection,
Clasps her Willie to her breast;
Tells him a'her sad—sad sufferings!
How she wandered, starving, poor,
Gleaning phy’ scanty offerings,
Wi' three bairns, frae door to door.
How she served, and toiled, and fevered,
Lost her health, and syne her bread;
How that grief, when scarce recovered.
Took, her brain, and turned her head.
How she wandered round the county
Many a live-lang night her lane;
Till at last an angel’s bounty
Brought her senses back again:
Ga’e her meat, and claes, and siller,
Ga’e her bairnies wark and lear;
Lastly, ga’e this cot-house till her,
Wi’ four sterling pounds a year.
Willie, hearkening, wiped his een aye;
“Oh! what sins ha’e I to rue!
But say, wha’s this angel, Jeanie?”
“Wha,” quo’ Jeanie, “but Buccleuch!❋
❋Elizabeth, Duchess of Buccleuch.
