Classic Poem

BARD .

Now Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks
Upon his neighering coursers' backs,
To gar them tak' th' Olympian brae,
Wi' a cart lade o' bleezing day;
The country hind ceases to snore,
Bangs frae his bed, unlocks the dore,
His bladder tooms, and gi'es a rift,
Then tentily surveys the lift;
And weary o' his wife and flaes,
To their embrace prefers his claes.
Scarce had the lark forsook her nest,
Whan Jouk, wha had got little rest,
For thinking o' his plot and lassie,
Got up to gang and deal wi' Bawsie.
Awa fast o'er the bent he gade,
And fand him dozing on his bed,
His blankets creishy, foul his sark,
His curtains trim'd wi' spider's wark;
Soot-draps hang frae his roof and kipples,
His floor was a' tobacco spittles:
Yet on the antlers o' a deer
Hang mony an auld claymore and spear,
Wi' coat o' iron and target trusty,
Inch thick o' dirt, and unco rusty:
Enough appear'd to shaw his billy,
That he was lazy, poor, and silly,
And wadna mak' so great a bustle
About his bonnet as did Bristle.
Jouk three times rugged at his shoulder,
Cried three times laigh, and three times louder:
At langrun Bawsy raik'd his een,
And cries, " What 's that? what d' ye mean? "
Then looking up, he sees his brither.

BAWSY .

Good morrow, Jouk, what brings you hither?
You 're early up, as I 'm a sinner
I seenly rise before my dinner.
Weil, what 's ye'r news, and how gaes a'?
Ye 've been an unco time awa'.

JOUKUM .

Bawsy, I 'm blyth to see you weil,
For me, thank God, I keep my heal:
Get up, get up, ye lazy mart,
I ha'e a secret to impart,
O' which when I gi'e you an inkling,
It will set baith your lugs a tinkling.

BARD .

Straight Bawsy rises, quickly dresses,
While haste his youky mind expresses:
Now rigg'd, and morning drink brought in,
Thus did slee-gabbet Jouk begin.

JOUKUM .

My worthy brither, weil I wate
O'er feckless is your wee estate
For sic a meikle saul as yours,
That to things greater higher tow'rs;
But ye lie loitering here at hame,
Neglectfu' baith o' wealth and fame,
Tho', as I said, ye ha'e a mind
That is for higher things design'd.

BAWSY .

That 's very true, thanks to the skies,
But how to get them, there it lies.

JOUKUM .

I 'll tell ye, Baws, I 've laid a plot,
That only wants your casting vote,
And if you 'll gi'e 't, your bread is baken;
But first accept o' this love-taiken:
Here tak' this gowd, and never want
Enough to gar you drink and rant;
And this is but an arle-penny
To what I afterward design ye;
And in return, I 'm sure that I
Shall naething seek that ye 'll deny.

BAWSY .

And trouth now, Jouk, and neither will I,
Or after never ca' me billy;
If I refuse, wae light upo' me.
This gowd, O wow! 'tis wonder bonny.

JOUKUM .

Ay, that it is; 'tis e'en the a'
That gars the plough o' living draw:
'Tis gowd gars sogers fight the fiercer;
Without it preaching wad be scarcer;
'Tis gowd that maks some great men witty;
And puggy lasses fair and pretty;
Without it ladies nice wad dwindle
Down to a wife that snooves a spindle. —
But to the point, and wave digression:
I mak' a free and plain confession,
That I 'm in love; and, as I said,
Demand frae you a little aid
To gain a bride, that eithly can
Mak' me fu' blest, and you a man:
Gi'e me your bonnet to present
My mistress wi', and your consent
To rive the daft auld-fashion'd deed
That bids ye wear it on your head.

BAWSY .

O gosh! O gosh! then, Jouk, ha'e at her;
If that be a', 'tis nae great matter.

JOUKUM .

These granted, she demands nae mair,
To let us in her riches skair;
Nor shall our hirds, as heretofore,
Rin aff wi' ane anither's store,
Nor ding out ane anither's harns,
When they forgather 'mang the kairns;
But freely may drive up and down,
And sell in ilka market-town
Belangs to her, which soon ye 'll see,
If ye be wise, belang to me:
And when that happy day shall come,
My honest Bawsy, there 's my thumb,
That while I breathe I 'll ne'er beguile ye,
Ye'se baith get gowd, and be a bailly.

BAWSY .

Faith, Jouk, I see but little skaith
In breaking o' a senseless aith,
That is imposed by doited dads,
To please their whims, on thoughtless lads.
My bonnet! welcome to my bonnet,
And meikle good may ye mak' on it.
Our father's will, I'se mak' nae din,
Tho' Rosie should apply 't behin'.
But say, does billy Bristle ken
This your design to mak' us men?

JOUKUM .

Ay, that he does; but the stiff ass
Bears a hard hatred at the lass,
And rattles out a hantla stories
O' blood, and dirt, and ancient glories;
Meaning foul feuds that us'd to be
Between ours and her family:
Bans like a blockhead that he 'll ne'er
Twin wi' his bonnet for a' her gear;
But you and I conjoin'd can ding him,
And, by a vote, to reason bring him:
If we stand closs, 'tis unco eith
To rive the test'ment spite o's teeth,
And gar him ply, for a' his clavers,
To lift his bonnet to our beavers.

BAWSY .

Then let the doof delight in drudging;
What cause ha'e we to tent his grudging,
Tho' Rosie's flocks feed on his fells,
If you and I be weil oursells?

BARD .

Thus Jouk and Bawsy were agreed,
And Briss man yield, it was decreed. —
Thus far I 've sung, in Highland strains,
O' Jouk's amours, and pawky pains,
To gain his ends wi' ilka brither,
Sae opposite to ane anither;
O' Bristle's hardy resolutions,
And hatred to the Rosicrucians;
O' Bawsy put in slav'ry neck-fast,
Selling his bonnet for a breakfast.
What follows on 't, o' gain or skaith,
I'se tell when we ha'e ta'en our breath.