Records and Other Poems By the late Robert Leighton |
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SPUNK JANET'S CURE FOR LOVE. |
 | Records and Other Poems |  |
331
SPUNK JANET'S CURE FOR LOVE.
I've vowed to forget him again and again;
But vows are as licht as the air is, I trow;
For something within me aye comes wi' a sten',
And dunts on my heart till I gi'e up the vow.
But vows are as licht as the air is, I trow;
For something within me aye comes wi' a sten',
And dunts on my heart till I gi'e up the vow.
I gaed to Spunk Janet, the spaewife, yestreen—
I've often heard folk o' her wisdom approve:—
Quoth she, “It's your fortune you're wantin', I ween?”—
“No! Janet,” quoth I, “will ye cure me o' love?”
I've often heard folk o' her wisdom approve:—
Quoth she, “It's your fortune you're wantin', I ween?”—
“No! Janet,” quoth I, “will ye cure me o' love?”
“I'll try it,” quoth she; “say awa' wi' your tale,
And tell me the outs and the ins o' it a';'
Does love mak' ye lichtsome, or does't mak' ye wail?
Ye see, lass, I ken it does ane o' thae twa.”
And tell me the outs and the ins o' it a';'
Does love mak' ye lichtsome, or does't mak' ye wail?
Ye see, lass, I ken it does ane o' thae twa.”
“Aweel, then, to tell you the truth o' it, Janet,
There's sometimes I'm clean overflown' wi' glee,
And ither times, woman, I'm no fit to stan' it,—
Ye'd think I wad greet out the sicht o' my ee.
There's sometimes I'm clean overflown' wi' glee,
And ither times, woman, I'm no fit to stan' it,—
Ye'd think I wad greet out the sicht o' my ee.
“But then there's the laddie, I never can get him,
And here am I ready and willin' to pay,
Gin ye'll play some cantrip to mak' me forget him—
The thochts o' him deave me by nicht and by day.”
And here am I ready and willin' to pay,
Gin ye'll play some cantrip to mak' me forget him—
The thochts o' him deave me by nicht and by day.”
332
“I'll e'en try my skill on't,” quoth Janet, “I shall,—
The cost o' my coonsel is but half-a-croon,—
Hooever, i' the first place, ye ken the Witch-walle,
That bonnie clear spring at the end o' the toon:—
The cost o' my coonsel is but half-a-croon,—
Hooever, i' the first place, ye ken the Witch-walle,
That bonnie clear spring at the end o' the toon:—
“When the sun frae his bed is beginnin' to teet,
Gang ye ilka mornin', blaw weet or blaw wind,
And sit by the wallie and dip in your feet,
Without e'er a thocht o' the lad in your mind.
Gang ye ilka mornin', blaw weet or blaw wind,
And sit by the wallie and dip in your feet,
Without e'er a thocht o' the lad in your mind.
“Do this for a week, and the cure will be wrocht—
But, mind ye, tak' care o' what comes in your head!
If e'er it should chance that the lad be your thocht,
Like mist o' the mornin' the cantrip will fade!”
But, mind ye, tak' care o' what comes in your head!
If e'er it should chance that the lad be your thocht,
Like mist o' the mornin' the cantrip will fade!”
Thus ended Spunk Janet: I paid her the fee;
And by her directions I promised to bide:
To-morrow the cantrip begins, I maun be,
By the first peep o' day, at the Witch-wallie's side.
And by her directions I promised to bide:
To-morrow the cantrip begins, I maun be,
By the first peep o' day, at the Witch-wallie's side.
The cauld o' the water I weel may endure;
But then, there's the thocht, it's the warst o' it a':
For if ower the thochts o' my mind I had pow'r,
I wadna ha'e needed Spunk Janet ava!
But then, there's the thocht, it's the warst o' it a':
For if ower the thochts o' my mind I had pow'r,
I wadna ha'e needed Spunk Janet ava!
| Records and Other Poems | |