THE POEMS OF BURNS.
49
Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks,
I wat they did na weary;
And unco tales, an' funnie jokes,
Their sports were cheap and cheary;
Till butt'rd So'ns,[1] wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin;
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
They parted aff careerin
Fu' blythe that night.
I wat they did na weary;
And unco tales, an' funnie jokes,
Their sports were cheap and cheary;
Till butt'rd So'ns,[1] wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin;
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
They parted aff careerin
Fu' blythe that night.
THE JOLLY BEGGARS.
A CANTATA.
Recitativo
When lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast:
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,
In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night at e'en a merry core
O' randie, gangrel bodies,
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies:
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang,
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The verra girdle rang,
When lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast:
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,
In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night at e'en a merry core
O' randie, gangrel bodies,
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies:
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang,
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The verra girdle rang,
First, neist the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm,
She blinkit on her sodger;
An' aye he gies the tozie drab
The tither skelpin' kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab,
Just like an aumous dish;
Ilk smack still, did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whup;
Then staggering and swaggering,
He roar'd this ditty up—
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm,
She blinkit on her sodger;
An' aye he gies the tozie drab
The tither skelpin' kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab,
Just like an aumous dish;
Ilk smack still, did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whup;
Then staggering and swaggering,
He roar'd this ditty up—
AIR.
Tune—'Soldier's Joy.'
Tune—'Soldier's Joy.'
I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
My 'prenticeship I pass'd where my leader breath'd his last,
When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram;
I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was play'd,
And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram;
I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was play'd,
And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt'ries,
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb:
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb:
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.
Lal de daudle, etc.
- ↑ Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper. R. B.
