Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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THE MERRY NEW YEAR. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE MERRY NEW YEAR.
The kintra was knee-deep in snaw,
The trees a' wi' fleeces hung dreary;
Nae birdie was chirpin' ava,
And the hale warld look'd dowie and eerie:
When New'rday bade dulness be gane,
And kittled up mirth in the clachan;
Ilk carle, carline, lad, lass, and wean,
Lang ere daylicht, were rantin' and laughin',
To welcome the merry New-Year.
The trees a' wi' fleeces hung dreary;
Nae birdie was chirpin' ava,
And the hale warld look'd dowie and eerie:
When New'rday bade dulness be gane,
And kittled up mirth in the clachan;
Ilk carle, carline, lad, lass, and wean,
Lang ere daylicht, were rantin' and laughin',
To welcome the merry New-Year.
The steeple-clock scarce had struck twal
When ilk birkie bang'd to his kist shottle,
Determined to banish the caul'
Wi' a scour o' guid strunt frae his bottle.
The clachan was soon in a steer
Wi' reengin at doors and at winnocks,
Wi' whisky, and ither guid cheer,
Curran' buns, cheese, and weel-butter'd bannocks,
To hansel the merry New-Year.
When ilk birkie bang'd to his kist shottle,
Determined to banish the caul'
Wi' a scour o' guid strunt frae his bottle.
185
Wi' reengin at doors and at winnocks,
Wi' whisky, and ither guid cheer,
Curran' buns, cheese, and weel-butter'd bannocks,
To hansel the merry New-Year.
The best scene o' mirth in the town
Lay down in auld Ringan M'Aulay's;
This was the pole-star, that, a' roun',
Attracted in a' the young fallows.
His dochters, sae gleesome and braw,
Bewitch'd hearts and een just like glamour;
Sae, lang ere we heard the cock craw,
The house rang wi' taproom-like clamour,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Lay down in auld Ringan M'Aulay's;
This was the pole-star, that, a' roun',
Attracted in a' the young fallows.
His dochters, sae gleesome and braw,
Bewitch'd hearts and een just like glamour;
Sae, lang ere we heard the cock craw,
The house rang wi' taproom-like clamour,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Jock Jenkins cam' frae the Gearglen
To rival the smith and the miller,
Cocksure he wad win farthest ben
Wi' braggin o' gear and o' siller:
While touslin' wi' Nell in the neuk
He tumbled the cast-metal boiler,
That scaddit, by fearfu' misluck,
A' the shins o' Tam Bodkin the tailor,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
To rival the smith and the miller,
Cocksure he wad win farthest ben
Wi' braggin o' gear and o' siller:
While touslin' wi' Nell in the neuk
He tumbled the cast-metal boiler,
That scaddit, by fearfu' misluck,
A' the shins o' Tam Bodkin the tailor,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
He raised up a savage-like yell—
“Oh, murder! I'm dead now, I'm dead now!”
And straucht on Jock's summit he fell,
And rave nievefu's o' hair frae his head now;
But Nepps, to prevent further strife,
Strack in, to keep Tam's wrath in balance,
Else Jock's face had borne through his life
Fleesome scaurs frae the tailor's sharp talons,
For haudin the merry New-Year.
“Oh, murder! I'm dead now, I'm dead now!”
And straucht on Jock's summit he fell,
And rave nievefu's o' hair frae his head now;
But Nepps, to prevent further strife,
Strack in, to keep Tam's wrath in balance,
Else Jock's face had borne through his life
Fleesome scaurs frae the tailor's sharp talons,
For haudin the merry New-Year.
They balsam'd his shins wi' train-oil,
And wi' saft linen clouts gat them buckled;
And Jock, to avoid future broil,
A' morn to the tailor aye knuckled:
Sae a' was forgot and forgi'en
Out owre a guid bicker o' toddy,
And Tammie was singin' bedeen,
While the smith fell a-dancin' curcuddy,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
And wi' saft linen clouts gat them buckled;
And Jock, to avoid future broil,
A' morn to the tailor aye knuckled:
Sae a' was forgot and forgi'en
Out owre a guid bicker o' toddy,
And Tammie was singin' bedeen,
While the smith fell a-dancin' curcuddy,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
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The butcher cam' ben wi' a breenge,
As blithesome and bung'd as auld Bacchus,
But fell owre the smith wi' a reenge,
Wha at his Scotch-waltz no that slack was;
This tickled the wabster, Will Thrum,
Wha flang a fou glass in the ingle;
Like lichtnin', it kindled the lum,
And fear wi' their mirth soon did mingle,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
As blithesome and bung'd as auld Bacchus,
But fell owre the smith wi' a reenge,
Wha at his Scotch-waltz no that slack was;
This tickled the wabster, Will Thrum,
Wha flang a fou glass in the ingle;
Like lichtnin', it kindled the lum,
And fear wi' their mirth soon did mingle,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Fire, fire! was the cry roun' and roun':
Like sailors they speel'd to the riggin';
But twa gang o' water toom'd down,
Secured the contents o' the biggin'.
Auld Ringan sat singing Kail-brose
Meantime o' this fearfu' mishanter;
And scour'd aff the ither guid dose
O' hill-dew frae a chappin decanter,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Like sailors they speel'd to the riggin';
But twa gang o' water toom'd down,
Secured the contents o' the biggin'.
Auld Ringan sat singing Kail-brose
Meantime o' this fearfu' mishanter;
And scour'd aff the ither guid dose
O' hill-dew frae a chappin decanter,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
But nae siccan hillabulloos
Were witness'd by auld Habbie Semple,
Wha pass'd the hail mornin' fou douse,—
He was priest o' the Teetotal Temple:
Till slee tricky Duncan M'Phail,
Determined to play him a pliskie,
Sugar'd up a het-pint o' strong ale
Wi' a mutchkin o' Campbelton whisky,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Were witness'd by auld Habbie Semple,
Wha pass'd the hail mornin' fou douse,—
He was priest o' the Teetotal Temple:
Till slee tricky Duncan M'Phail,
Determined to play him a pliskie,
Sugar'd up a het-pint o' strong ale
Wi' a mutchkin o' Campbelton whisky,
To welcome the merry New-Year.
Hab rail'd against whisky and gin,
While he tootit aff aye the fou bicker;
Tint his hearin', and nearly grew blin',
And his tongue couldna wauchle that sicker:
Sae they happit him snug in his bed,
Wi' claes, shoon, and a' on thegither,
And Duncan the story soon spread,
Sayin', “Nane need now laugh at anither
For haudin the merry New-Year.”
While he tootit aff aye the fou bicker;
Tint his hearin', and nearly grew blin',
And his tongue couldna wauchle that sicker:
Sae they happit him snug in his bed,
Wi' claes, shoon, and a' on thegither,
And Duncan the story soon spread,
Sayin', “Nane need now laugh at anither
For haudin the merry New-Year.”
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |