Classic Poem

But there had been mair blood and skaith,
Sair harship and great spulie,
And mony a ane had gotten his death
By this unsonsie tooly,
But that the bauld good-wife of Baith,
Arm'd wi' a great kail gully,
Came bellyflaught, and loot an aith,
She'd gar them a' be hooly
Fou fast that day.

Blyth to win aff sae wi' hale banes,
Tho' mony had clow'r'd pows;
And draggl'd sae 'mang muck and stanes,
They look'd like wirrykows:
Quoth some, who maist had tint their aynds,
" Let 's see how a' bowls rows:
" And quat their brulziement at anes,
" Yon gully is nae mows,
" Forsooth this day. "

Quoth Hutchon, " I am well content,
" I think we may do war;
" 'Till this time tomond I 'se indent
" Our claiths of dirt will sa'r;
" Wi' nevels I 'm amaist fawn faint,
" My chafts are dung a char. "
Then took his bonnet to the bent,
And dadit aff the glar,
Fou clean that day.

Tam Taylor, wha in time of battle,
Lay as gin some had fell'd him,
Gat up now wi' an unco rattle,
As nane there durst a quell'd him:
Bauld Bess flew till him wi' a brattle,
And spite of his teeth held him
Closs by the craig, and with her fatal
Knife shored she would geld him,
For peace that day.

Syne a' wi' ae consent shook hands,
As they stood in a ring;
Some red their hair, some set their bands,
Some did their sark-tails wring;
Then for a hap to shaw their brands,
They did their minstrel bring,
Where clever houghs like willi wands,
At ilka blythsome spring,
Lap high that day.

Claud Peky was na very blate,
He stood nae lang a dreigh;
For by the wame he gripped Kate,
And gar'd her gi'e a skreigh:
" Had aff, " quoth she, " ye filthy slate,
" Ye stink o' leeks, O feigh!
" Let gae my hands, I say, be quait; "
And vow gin she was skeigh
And mim that day.

Now settled gossies sat, and keen
Did for fresh bickers birle;
While the young swankies on the green
Took round a merry tirle:
Meg Wallet wi' her pinky een
Gart Lawrie's heart-strings dirle;
And fouk wad threap, that she did green
For what wad gar her skirle
And skreigh some day.

The manly miller, haff and haff,
Came out to shaw good will,
Flang by his mittens and his staff,
Cry'd, " Gi'e me Paty's Mill: "
He lap bawk-hight, and cry'd, " Had aff, "
They rees'd him that had skill;
" He wad do 't better, " quoth a cawff,
" Had he another gill
" Of usquebay. "

Furth started neist a pensy blade,
And out a maiden took,
They said that he was Falkland bred,
And danced by the book;
A souple taylor to his trade,
And when their hands he shook,
Ga'e them what he got frae his dad,
Videlicet, the yuke,
To claw that day.

When a' cry'd out he did sae weel,
He Meg and Bess did call up;
The lasses babb'd about the reel,
Gar'd a' their hurdies wallop,
And swat like pownies when they speel
Up braes, or when they gallop,
But a thrawn knublock hit his heel,
And wives had him to haul up,
Haff fell'd that day.

But mony a pawky look and tale
Gaed round when glowming hous'd them,
The ostler wife brought ben good ale,
And bad the lasses rouze them:
" Up wi' them lads, and I 'se be bail
" They 'll loo ye and ye touze them: "
Quoth gawsie, " This will never fail
" Wi' them that this gate wooes them,
" On sic a day. "

Syne stools and forms were drawn aside,
And up raise Willy Dadle,
A short-hought man, but fou o' pride,
He said the fidler plaid ill:
" Let 's hae the pipes, " quoth he, " beside; "
Quoth a', " That is nae said ill. "
He fits the floor syne wi' the bride,
To Cuttymun and Treeladle,
Thick, thick, that day.

In the mean time in came the laird,
And by some right did claim
To kiss and dance wi' Mausie Aird,
A dink and dortie dame:
But O poor Mause was aff her guard,
For back gate frae her wame,
Beckin she loot a fearfu' raird,
That gart her think great shame,
And blush that day.

Auld Steen led out Maggy Forsyth,
He was her ain good brither;
And ilka ane was unco blyth,
To see auld fouk sae clever.
Quoth Jock, wi' laughing like to rive,
" What think ye o' my mither?
" Were my dad dead, let me ne'er thrive
" But she wad get anither
" Goodman this day. "

Tam Lutter had a muckle dish,
And betwixt ilka tune,
He laid his lugs in 't like a fish,
And suckt till it was done:
His bags were liquor'd to his wish,
His face was like a moon;
But he could get nae place to pish
In, but his ain twa shoon,
For thrang that day.

The letter gae of haly rhime,
Sat up at the board-head,
And a' he said was thought a crime
To contradict indeed:
For in clark lear he was right prime,
And cou'd baith write and read,
And drank sae firm till ne'er a styme
He could keek on a bead
Or book that day.

When he was strute, twa sturdy chiels,
Be 's oxter and be 's coller,
Help up frae cowping o' the creels
The liquid logic scholar.
When he came hame his wife did reel,
And rampage in her choler,
With that he brake the spinning-wheel,
That cost a good rix-dollar
And mair, some say.

Near bed-time now, ilk weary wight
Was gaunting for his rest;
For some were like to tine their sight,
Wi' sleep and drinking strest.
But ithers that were stomach-tight,
Cry'd out, " It was nae best
" To leave a supper that was dight
" To brownies, or a ghaist,
" To eat or day. "

On whomelt tubs lay twa lang dails,
On them stood mony a goan,
Some fill'd wi' brachan, some wi' kail,
And milk het frae the loan.
Of daintiths they had routh and wale,
Of which they were right fon;
But naithing wad gae down but ale
Wi' drunken Donald Don,
The smith, that day.

Twa times aught bannocks in a heap,
And twa good junts of beef,
Wi' hind and fore spaul of a sheep,
Drew whittles frae ilk sheath:
Wi' gravie a' their beards did dreep,
They kempit wi' their teeth;
A kebbuck syn that maist could creep
Its lane pat on the sheaf,
In stons that day.

The bride was now laid in her bed,
Her left leg ho was flung;
And Geordie Gib was fidgen glad,
Because it hit Jean Gunn:
She was his jo, and aft had said,
" Fy, Geordie, had your tongue,
" Ye's ne'er get me to be your bride: "
But chang'd her mind when bung,
That very day.

Tehee! quoth Touzie, when she saw
The cathel coming ben;
It pyping het ged round them a';
The bride she made a fen,
To sit in wylicoat sae braw,
Upon her nether en;
Her lad like ony cock did craw,
That meets a clockin hen,
And blyth were they.

The souter, miller, smith, and Dick,
Lawrie, and Hutchon bauld,
Carles that keep nae very strict
Be hours, tho' they were auld:
Nor cou'd they e'er leave aff that trick;
But whare good ale was sald,
They drank a' night, e'en tho' auld nick
Should tempt their wives to scald
Them for 't niest day.

Was ne'er in Scotland heard or seen
Sic banqueting and drinkin,
Sic revelling and battles keen,
Sic dancing and sic jinkin,
And unco wark that fell at e'en,
Whan lasses were haff winkin,
They lost their feet and baith their een,
And maidenheads gaed linkin
Aff a' that day.

Now frae th' east nook of Fife the dawn
Speel'd westlines up the lift,
Carles wha heard the cock had craw'n,
Begoud to rax and rift;
And greedy wives wi' girning thrawn,
Cry'd lasses up to thrift;
Dogs barked, and the lads frae hand
Bang'd to their breeks like drift,
Be break of day.

But some who had been fou yestreen,
Sic as the letter-gae,
Air up had nae will to be seen,
Grudgin their groat to pay.
But what aft fristed 's no forgeen,
When fouk has nought to say;
Yet sweer were they to rake their een;
Sic dizzy heads had they,
And het that day.

Be that time it was fair foor days,
As fou 's the house could pang,
To see the young fouk ere they raise,
Gossips came in ding dang,
And wi' a soss aboon the claiths,
Ilk ane their gifts down flang:
Twa toop-horn-spoons down Maggy lays,
Baith muckle mow'd and lang,
For kale or whey.

Her aunt a pair of tangs fush in,
Right bauld she spake and spruce;
" Gin your goodman shall make a din,
" And gabble like a goose,
" Shorin whan fou to skelp ye're skin,
" Thir tangs may be of use;
" Lay them enlang his pow or shin,
" Wha wins syn may make roose,
" Between you twa. "

Auld Bessie in her red coat braw,
Came wi' her ain oe Nanny,
An odd-like wife, they said, that saw
A moupin runckled granny:
She fley'd the kimmers ane and a',
Word gae'd she was na kanny,
Nor wad they let Lucky awa,
'Till she was fou wi' branny,
Like mony mae.

Steen, fresh and fastin 'mang the rest,
Came in to get his morning,
Speer'd gin the bride had tane the test,
And how she loo'd her corning?
She leugh as she had fan a nest,
Said, " Let a be ye'r scorning. "
Quoth Roger, " Fegs, I 've done my best,
" To ge 'er a charge of horning,
" As well 's I may. "

Kind Kirsh was there, a kanty lass,
Black ey'd, black hair'd, and bonny;
Right well red up and jimp she was,
And wooers had fow mony:
I wat na how it came to pass,
She cudled in wi' Jonnie,
And tumbling wi' him on the grass,
Dang a' her cockernonny
A jee that day.

But Mause begrutten was and bleer'd,
Look'd thowless, dowf, and sleepy;
Auld Maggy ken'd the wyte, and sneer'd,
Caw'd her a poor daft heepy:
" It 's a wise wife that kens her weird,
" What tho' ye mount the creepy;
" There a good lesson may be learn'd,
" And what the war will ye be
" To stand a day?

" Or bairns can read, they first maun spell,
" I learn'd this frae my mammy,
" And coost a legen girth mysel,
" Lang or I married Tammie:
" I 'se warrand ye have a' heard tell,
" Of bonny Andrew Lammy,
" Stiffly in loove wi' me he fell,
" As soon as e'er he saw me —
" That was a day! "

Het drink, fresh butter'd caiks, and cheese,
That held their hearts aboon,
Wi' clashes, mingled aft wi' lies,
Drave aff the hale forenoon:
But, after dinner, an ye please,
To weary not o'er soon,
We, down to e'ening edge wi' ease,
Shall loup, and see what 's done.
I' the doup o' day.

Now what the friends wad fain been at,
They that were right true blue:
Was e'en to get their wysons wat,
And fill young Roger fou:
But the bauld billy took his maut,
And was right stiff to bow;
He fairly gae them tit for tat,
And scour'd aff healths anew,
Clean out that day.

A creel bout fou of muckle steins.
They clinked on his back,
To try the pith o' his rigg and reins,
They gart him cadge this pack.
Now as a sign he had tane pains,
His young wife was na slack,
To rin and ease his shoulder-bains,
And sneg'd the raips fou snack,
Wi' her knife that day.

Syne the blyth carles tooth and nail
Fell keenly to the wark;
To ease the gantrees of the ale,
And try wha was maist stark;
Till boord, and floor, and a' did fail,
Wi' spilt ale i' the dark;
Gart Jock's fit slide, he, like a fail,
Play'd dad, and dang the bark
Aff 's shins that day.

The souter, miller, smith, and Dick,
Et cet'ra, closs sat cockin,
Till wasted was baith cash and tick,
Sae ill were they to slocken:
Gane out to pish in gutters thick,
Some fell, and some gaed rockin,
Sawny hang sneering on his stick,
To see bauld Hutchon bockin
Rainbows that day.

The smith's wife her black deary sought,
And fand him skin and birn:
Quoth she, " This day's wark's be dear bought. "
He damn'd and gae a girn,
Ca'd her a jade, and said she mucht
" Gae hame and scum her kirn:
" Whisht, ladren, for gin ye say ought
" Mair, Ise wind ye a pirn,
" To reel some day. "

" Ye 'll wind a pirn! ye silly snool,
" Wae worth ye'r drunken saul; "
Quoth she, and lap out o'er a stool,
And caught him by the spaul.
He shook her, and sware muckle dool,
" Ye 's thole for this, ye scaul;
" Ise rive frae aff ye'r hips the hool,
" And learn ye to be baul
" On sic a day. "

" Your tippanizing scant o' grace, "
Quoth she, " gars me gang duddy;
" Our nibour Pate sin break o' day 's
" Been thumping at his studdy.
" An it be true that some fowk says,
" Ye 'll girn yet in a woody. "
Syn wi' her nails she rave his face,
Made a' his black baird bloody
Wi' scarts that day.

A gilpy that had seen the faught,
I wat he was nae lang,
Till he had gather'd seven or aught
Wild hempies stout and strang;
They frae a barn a kabar raught,
Ane mounted wi' a bang,
Betwisht twa's shoulders, and sat straught
Upon 't, and rade the stang
On her that day.

The wives and gytlings a' spawn'd out
O'er middings and o'er dykes,
Wi' mony an unco skirl and shout,
Like bumbees frae their bykes;
Thro' thick and thin they scour'd about,
Plashing thro' dubs and sykes,
And sic a feird ran thro' the rout,
Gart a' the hale town tykes
Yamph loud that day.

But d' ye see fou better bred
Was mens-fou Maggy Murdy,
She her man like a lammy led
Hame, wi' a well-wail'd wordy.
Fast frae the company he fled,
As he had tane the sturdy;
She fleech'd him fairly to his bed,
Wi' ca'ing him her burdy,
Kindly that day.

But Lawrie he took out his nap
Upon a mow of pease;
And Robin spew'd in 's ain wife's lap,
He said it gae him ease.
Hutchon with a three-lugged cap,
His head bizzen wi' bees,
Hit Geordy a mislushios rap,
And brak the brig o' 's neese
Right sair that day.

Syne ilka thing gae'd arse o'er head,
Chanlers, boord, stools, and stowps,
Flew thro' the house wi' muckle speed,
And there was little hopes,
But there had been some ill-done deed,
They gat sic thrawart cowps:
But a' the skaith that chanc'd indeed,
Was only on their dowps,
Wi' faws that day.

Sae whiles they toolied, whiles they drank,
Till a' their sense was smoor'd;
And in their maws there was nae mank,
Upon the forms some snoor'd:
Ithers frae aff the bunkers sank,
Wi' een like collops scor'd;
Some ramm'd their noddles wi' a clank,
E'en like a thick-scull'd lord,
On posts that day.

The young good-man to bed did clim
His dear the door did lock in;
Crap down beyont him and the rim
O'er wame he clapt his dock on.
She fand her lad was not in trim,
And be this same good token,
That ilka member, lith and lim,
Was souple like a doken,
'Bout him that day.