Gin ower ye're thairms[1] I jink the bow,
Bright notions bizz intae ma pow,
For worl'y cares ye them can cow,
An' a' gangs richt,
When ower I stump[2] 'Nathaniel Gow,'
Or 'Grey daylicht.'
Wi' reek an' rozet noo ye're black
An scarted sair aboot the back,
But what tho' tawdry ye're ne'er slack
Tae lilt a spring[3]
Wi' ony far fecht fancy crack
They e'er will bring.
In silk-lined cases ower the seas
Scrawled oot an' in wi' foreign lees
Aboot their S's, scrolls, an' C's,[4]
An' eke a name
Wad tak' a child that's ta'en degrees
Tae read that same.
An' nocht but bum-clocks[5] at the best
Wi' shinin' coats o' amber drest;
Och! what o' that? their tones but test!
Sic dandie dummies!
Lyin' in braw boxes at their rest,
Row'd up like mummies.
For a' the sprees ye hae been at,
Haech! nae sic guide-ship e'er ye gat,
But took your chance tho' it was wat,
Ay, e'en wat snaw
I've seen or noo a denty brat[6]
Oot ower ye a'.
I never kent ye tak' the gee,[7]
But aye sang sweet at ilka spree,
Tho' I played wild at times a wee
Gin I gat fou.
The fau't lay wi' the wee drap bree,[8]
An' no' wi' you.
Sae noo I trust gin I'm nae mair,
Some fiddlin' frien' will tak' guid care,
And see that ye're nae dauded[9] sair,
When frail an' auld;
For Hardies noo are unco rare
Sae that I'm tauld.
Lanely Bield. A. F.
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