Classic Poem

I.

T HEY'VE steekit the waters agen us, Jock,
They've steekit the burnies an' a';
We hae na a chiel to befrien' us, Jock,
Our laird's aye makin' the law.

II.

We'll get neither yallow nor grey-fin, Jock,
Nor bull-heid nor sawmon ava;
The laird he's aye at the savin', Jock,
An' hauds to us weel wi' his law.

III.

Yer flees ye may set them a bleezin', Jock,
Our wands they may gang to the wa';
It's neither in rhyme nor in reason, Jock,
To coort a kick-up wi' the law.

IV.

That ilka intent should miscarry, Jock,
I dinna wunner ava;
Our laird he's kin to the Shirra, Jock,
And sib wi' the loons o' the law.

V.

But faith! ye'll agree it's a hardship, Jock,
To gie up our richts to the craw;
The neist time we meet wi' his lairdship, Jock,
We promise him licks for his law.

VI.

An' e'en when the mirk is a-nearin', Jock,
Wi' pock-nets and drag-nets an' a',
We'll gie his bit ponds sic a clearin', Jock,
Our laird he'll look twice to the law.

VII.

We'll no spare a ged or a gudgeon, Jock,
We'll no spare a fin or a jaw;
Lord pity the crazy curmudgeon, Jock!
He'll sune tak his leave o' the law!