Legal & Other Lyrics By George Outram: Containing a number of new pieces & fifteen illustrations by Edward J. Sullivan |
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WISHES
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37
WISHES
(OF A MISANTHROPE)
I wish I was a Woman!
Wi' nought to do but dance an' dress,
An' think mysel' sae bloomin’,
An' kaim my hair afore the glass;
To greet when my feet
Werena just sae sma' as I wad like,
An' ne'er feel a care
Though the cobbler should nae discount strike;
I'd spend my days in wearin' claes,
An' my gudeman should pay the bill;
An' if he raised an unco fraise,
I'd greet an' say I wasna weel!
Wi' nought to do but dance an' dress,
An' think mysel' sae bloomin’,
An' kaim my hair afore the glass;
To greet when my feet
Werena just sae sma' as I wad like,
An' ne'er feel a care
Though the cobbler should nae discount strike;
I'd spend my days in wearin' claes,
An' my gudeman should pay the bill;
An' if he raised an unco fraise,
I'd greet an' say I wasna weel!
I wish I was a Hero!
To spend my life in fire an' din,
An' murder like King Nero,
An' never think it was a sin:
I'd soon tak a toon,
An' wi' the spoil I wad mak free,
An' style it in a bulletin
A great an' glorious victory!
I'd write how brave my men behaved,
An' how the field was won by me;
An' to my king and country leave
To say what my reward should be.
To spend my life in fire an' din,
An' murder like King Nero,
An' never think it was a sin:
I'd soon tak a toon,
An' wi' the spoil I wad mak free,
An' style it in a bulletin
A great an' glorious victory!
I'd write how brave my men behaved,
An' how the field was won by me;
An' to my king and country leave
To say what my reward should be.
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I wish I was a Lawyer!
To ken what conscience ought to be,
An' no remember a' year
My friends reduced to poverty;
To be glad instead o' sad
When mithers weep, an' sons look pale,
An' say grace o'er a case,
As honest men do o'er their kail.
“Go to the court o' last resort
For the sake o' your poor family.”
“The Lords sustain!” My client's gane—
He's ruined—but I've got my fee!
To ken what conscience ought to be,
An' no remember a' year
My friends reduced to poverty;
To be glad instead o' sad
When mithers weep, an' sons look pale,
An' say grace o'er a case,
As honest men do o'er their kail.
“Go to the court o' last resort
For the sake o' your poor family.”
“The Lords sustain!” My client's gane—
He's ruined—but I've got my fee!
I wish I was a Brute Beast!
To live in some sequestered vale.
Frae friends and loves remote placed,
An' ne'er see man, an' wag my tail
To chow on a knowe
A' the herbs, an' flowers, an' grassy blades,
An' tread ower the head
O' gowans never touched wi' spades:
I'd never see a friendly face,
Sae nae friend wad prove fause to me;
I'd never ken the human race,
Nor ever curse humanity!
To live in some sequestered vale.
Frae friends and loves remote placed,
An' ne'er see man, an' wag my tail
To chow on a knowe
A' the herbs, an' flowers, an' grassy blades,
An' tread ower the head
O' gowans never touched wi' spades:
I'd never see a friendly face,
Sae nae friend wad prove fause to me;
I'd never ken the human race,
Nor ever curse humanity!
I wish I was a Bottle!
O' brandy, rum, or what you please,
In some frequented hôtel,
Where gude souls tak their bread an' cheese;
To fill out a gill
For some puir chield that wants a trade—
Or pass o'er the hass
O' some blythe, rantin, roarin' blade;
An' while unscrewed, I'd sit an' brood,
An' think mysel' weel blessed to ken
That when I dee'd I'd spend my bluid
To purchase joy for honest men!
O' brandy, rum, or what you please,
39
Where gude souls tak their bread an' cheese;
To fill out a gill
For some puir chield that wants a trade—
Or pass o'er the hass
O' some blythe, rantin, roarin' blade;
An' while unscrewed, I'd sit an' brood,
An' think mysel' weel blessed to ken
That when I dee'd I'd spend my bluid
To purchase joy for honest men!
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