Willie Winkie and Other Songs and Poems By William Miller: Edited, with an Introduction by Robert Ford |
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Cockie-leerie-la.
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![]() | Willie Winkie and Other Songs and Poems | ![]() |
Cockie-leerie-la.
There is a country gentleman,
Wha leads a thrifty life,
Ilk morning scraping orra things
Thegither for his wife—
His coat o' glowing ruddy brown,
And wavelet wi' gold—
A crimson crown upon his head,
Well fitting one so bold.
Wha leads a thrifty life,
Ilk morning scraping orra things
Thegither for his wife—
His coat o' glowing ruddy brown,
And wavelet wi' gold—
A crimson crown upon his head,
Well fitting one so bold.
If ithers pick where he did scrape,
He brings them to disgrace,
For, like a man o' metal, he
Siclike meets face to face;
He gies the loons a lethering,
A crackit croon to claw—
There is nae gaun about the bush
Wi' Cockie-leerie-la!
He brings them to disgrace,
For, like a man o' metal, he
Siclike meets face to face;
He gies the loons a lethering,
A crackit croon to claw—
There is nae gaun about the bush
Wi' Cockie-leerie-la!
9
His step is firm and evenly,
His look both sage and grave—
His bearing bold, as if he said,
“I'll never be a slave!”
And tho' he hauds his head fu' high,
He glinteth to the grun',
Nor fyles his silver spurs in dubs
Wi' glowerin' at the sun:
His look both sage and grave—
His bearing bold, as if he said,
“I'll never be a slave!”
And tho' he hauds his head fu' high,
He glinteth to the grun',
Nor fyles his silver spurs in dubs
Wi' glowerin' at the sun:
And whiles I've thocht had he a hand
Wharwi' to grip a stickie,
A pair o' spects across his neb,
And round his neck a dickie,
That weans wad laughing haud their sides,
And cry, “Preserve us a'!
Ye're some frien' to Doctor Drawbluid,
Douce Cockie-leerie-la!”
Wharwi' to grip a stickie,
A pair o' spects across his neb,
And round his neck a dickie,
That weans wad laughing haud their sides,
And cry, “Preserve us a'!
Ye're some frien' to Doctor Drawbluid,
Douce Cockie-leerie-la!”
So learn frae him to think nae shame
To work for what ye need,
For he that gapes till he be fed,
May gape till he be dead;
And if ye live in idleness,
Ye'll find unto your cost,
That they wha winna work in heat,
Maun hunger in the frost.
To work for what ye need,
For he that gapes till he be fed,
May gape till he be dead;
And if ye live in idleness,
Ye'll find unto your cost,
That they wha winna work in heat,
Maun hunger in the frost.
And hain wi' care ilk sair-won plack,
And honest pride will fill
Your purse wi' gear—e'en far-aff frien's
Will bring grist to your mill;
And if, when grown to be a man,
Your name's without a flaw,
Then rax your neck, and tune your pipes
To Cockie-leerie-la!
And honest pride will fill
Your purse wi' gear—e'en far-aff frien's
Will bring grist to your mill;
10
Your name's without a flaw,
Then rax your neck, and tune your pipes
To Cockie-leerie-la!
![]() | Willie Winkie and Other Songs and Poems | ![]() |