Ochil Idylls and Other Poems by Hugh Haliburton [i.e. J. L. Robertson] |
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YOUNG FERMER'S REPLY THE WEEK EFTER. |
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 | Ochil Idylls and Other Poems |  |
48
YOUNG FERMER'S REPLY THE WEEK EFTER.
Awa', auld man! ye're oot o' date,
Ye've lived some score o' years owre late,
Your ways are auld an' antiquate,
Your watch is slow;
The proper place for you's a seat
In Joseph's show!
Ye've lived some score o' years owre late,
Your ways are auld an' antiquate,
Your watch is slow;
The proper place for you's a seat
In Joseph's show!
Last week, when ye begoud to crack,
Ye brocht my auld gran'faither back—
Douce man he was, but unco slack,
I think I see 'im!
It was as if some mummy spak'
In some museum.
Ye brocht my auld gran'faither back—
Douce man he was, but unco slack,
I think I see 'im!
It was as if some mummy spak'
In some museum.
Whaur in the Ochils do ye thole
To keep a carcass on your soul?
At Clochrat-Slap? or Rouchle-Bole?
Or Whussle-Ben?
In whatna hill, or whatna hole,
At what sheyre-en'?
To keep a carcass on your soul?
At Clochrat-Slap? or Rouchle-Bole?
Or Whussle-Ben?
In whatna hill, or whatna hole,
At what sheyre-en'?
49
Ye speak o' shearers—hae ye seen
The bonnie reapin' horse-machine?
And steam—is a' ye ken o't, frien',
The toddy kettle?
Or plooin'—hae ye ever been
Beyont the pettle?
The bonnie reapin' horse-machine?
And steam—is a' ye ken o't, frien',
The toddy kettle?
Or plooin'—hae ye ever been
Beyont the pettle?
Ye smack o' fanners an' o' flails;
An' for climatic ills an' ails,
When floods pour doun an' sunshine fails,
Ye've nae remeid—
Excep' to curse the sun that sails
Abune your heid!
An' for climatic ills an' ails,
When floods pour doun an' sunshine fails,
Ye've nae remeid—
Excep' to curse the sun that sails
Abune your heid!
What better wad ye be in gress?
Ye need the sun for that nae less.
Tak' my advice, an' join the cless
At the new college;
An' learn that strength an' stupidness
Are less than knowledge.
Ye need the sun for that nae less.
Tak' my advice, an' join the cless
At the new college;
An' learn that strength an' stupidness
Are less than knowledge.
Ye little ken the gate we're strivin',
Ye little ken the rate we're drivin';
This warld ye're by mistak' alive in,
It's no' for drones,
Nor donnart bees like you to hive in
Wi' feckless groans?
Ye little ken the rate we're drivin';
This warld ye're by mistak' alive in,
It's no' for drones,
Nor donnart bees like you to hive in
Wi' feckless groans?
50
A wee whyle, an' ye'll see a sicht!
We'll gie ye heat, we'll gie ye licht,
We'll mak' it simmer day or nicht
Just as we please!
We'll put baith soils an' seasons richt
Wi' equal ease!
We'll gie ye heat, we'll gie ye licht,
We'll mak' it simmer day or nicht
Just as we please!
We'll put baith soils an' seasons richt
Wi' equal ease!
When Elec—but I'll haud my haund;
The word ye wadna understaund;
Ye think, nae doot, it's short for Saund—
Some great man's name;
Man, it's a pooer at oor commaund,
Lately come hame.
The word ye wadna understaund;
Ye think, nae doot, it's short for Saund—
Some great man's name;
Man, it's a pooer at oor commaund,
Lately come hame.
When that electric pooer shines oot,
As shine it will, there's no' a doot,
Dispensin' free to flooer an' fruit
The best o' weather,
You an' the Sun can wheel aboot
An' aff thegither!
As shine it will, there's no' a doot,
Dispensin' free to flooer an' fruit
The best o' weather,
You an' the Sun can wheel aboot
An' aff thegither!
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