Bailie Nicol Jarvie's journey to Aberfoil/The Auld Lark Sleeve
THE AULD SARK SLEEVE.
(Comic Recitation.)
A Reverend and esteemed divine,
Upon a Sabbath-day short syne,
While studious, a diawer unlocket,
To get a napkin for his pocket;
But, by mistak', dina perceive
He whippet'int an Auld Sark Sleeve!
Straight to the kick, I took his way,
The pu'pit speel'd—sung psalms—did pray.
When preachin, in a little space
He wished to wipe his sonsy face;
But mony a ane could scarce behave,
When he brought forth the Auld Sark Sleeve.
Its ragged edges he ne'er heeded,
But gart it do the turn he needed:
Bauldly the people he addressed,
An' earnest hame the matter pressed—
Meanwhile exposing in his neive
The dirty, ragged, Auld Sark Sleeve!
But on a kittle point he landed,
Which chosen scripture proofs demanded
He then the Bible grippet quickly,
To trace the puzzlin' topie strictly—
While he wi' looks composed an' grave,
Did lay aside the Auld Sark Sleeve!
Upon the pu'pit edge he laid it,
Till through the Bible he pervadet
Explaining that dark eritic point
Some heretic put out o' joint.
This dune—railed at the erroneous knave
An' caught again the Auld Sark Sleeve.
Ance mair he held it up to view,
An' wakened on the points anew—
Zealous and warmly he extended,
Till the discourse he fully ended:
So when the subject he did leave.
He, lastly-pouched the Auld Sark Sleeve!
Additional Verses.
Tho hin'most prayer an' grace weel said,
He left the kirk an' hameward gade,
To tak a chack an' drap, to tune
His heart for labour afternoon.
His wife that morn stay'd in wi' leave,
So kendna' o' the Auld Sark Sleeve.
But now they, arm in arm, proceeded,
'Mang wheens o' danderin' bodies heeded,
Wha cracked o' faith, election, grace,
An'scrape't an' bowed as they did pass
Some smirk'd at Mess John's queer behave
But nane spak o' the Auld Sark Sleeve.
Again within the rostrum seated,—
The prayer re-con'd, the psalm re-bleated—
He read this text:— "Wash me, and so
I shall be whiter than the snow."
Still clutchin' in his waully neive
The snuffy duddy Auld Sark Sleeve
He preached o' sprinklin' an' o' pourin',
O dippin', serubbin', an' o' scourin',
An' aye the rag, in illustration,
He showed a need a great purgation
But when his nose he wad relieve,
His thumbs gade thro' the Auld Sark Sleeve.
'Twas then laid doon whar 'twas before,
But by mischance 'twas soon 'ea'd o'er.
Meantime the sage precentor keepit
His hafit on his land an' sleepit:—
When o'er his wig end face sae grave
Fell faffin doon, the Airld Sark Sleeve.
A titter an' a laugh began,
Whilk o'er the congregation ran.
The worthy priest's gudewife surveyed
Wi' rage, the sport the young anes made,
An' fry'd an' wus'd the deil might have
The gigglers, an' the Auld Sark Sleeve.
But by his sermon sare impressed,
He didna mind whát round him past:
His dreepin' nose robbed on his luif,
An' on his coat tails dight it aff";
While some, free sport, began to grieve,
To see him miss his Auld Sark Sleeve.
A crone sat near, wha pity thought
The man o' God should want for ought;
She scrambled on her stool fu' big,
An' trailed the clout aff Bangor's wig,
An' on her pike-staff made to wave,
Like tatter'd' flag, the Auld Sark Sleeve.
Then rax'd it heogh aboon the pu'pit,
To gar the earnest preacher note it.
The folk nae langer could refrain,
But burst out in a roarin' vein.
The gude divine, like a' the laive,