Poems by Robert Nicoll Second edition: with numerous additions, and a memoir of the author |
 | I. |
THE DOMINIE. |
 | II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | Poems by Robert Nicoll |  |
29
THE DOMINIE.
Cam' ye e'er by our toun?
Danced ye e'er upon its green?
The smeeky hames o' our toun
Sae blithesome, ha'e ye ever seen?
There's rantin' chields in our toun—
The wabster, smith, an' monie mae;
But 'mang the lads o' our toun
The foremost is the Dominie!
Danced ye e'er upon its green?
The smeeky hames o' our toun
Sae blithesome, ha'e ye ever seen?
There's rantin' chields in our toun—
The wabster, smith, an' monie mae;
But 'mang the lads o' our toun
The foremost is the Dominie!
'Bout a' auld-farrant things he kens—
The Greeks an' bluidy Romans too;
An' ithers wi' auld-warld names
That sairly crook a body's mou'.
He kens the places far awa'
Where black folk dwall ayont the sea;
An' how an' why the starnies shine
Is weel kent to the Dominie!
The Greeks an' bluidy Romans too;
An' ithers wi' auld-warld names
That sairly crook a body's mou'.
He kens the places far awa'
Where black folk dwall ayont the sea;
An' how an' why the starnies shine
Is weel kent to the Dominie!
Wi' meikle words an' wisdom nods
The fleggit fearfu' bairns he rules;
An' he can tell the Hebrew names
O' aumries an' three-leggit stools!
A dead man's skull wi' girnin' teeth
Frae out the auld kirkyard has he:
For droll an' gey an' fearsome things
There's nane can match the Dominie.
The fleggit fearfu' bairns he rules;
An' he can tell the Hebrew names
O' aumries an' three-leggit stools!
A dead man's skull wi' girnin' teeth
Frae out the auld kirkyard has he:
For droll an' gey an' fearsome things
There's nane can match the Dominie.
30
O' beuks a warld he has read,
An' wi' his tongue can fight like mad,
Till ither folk he sometimes mak's
That they will neither bind nor haud:
And if they're dour and winna ding,
Their settlin' soon he does them gi'e
Wi' words o' queer lang-nebbit speech—
Sae learned is the Dominie!
An' wi' his tongue can fight like mad,
Till ither folk he sometimes mak's
That they will neither bind nor haud:
And if they're dour and winna ding,
Their settlin' soon he does them gi'e
Wi' words o' queer lang-nebbit speech—
Sae learned is the Dominie!
There's yon auld soger, wha has been
Where oranges like brambles hing,—
There's ne'er a ane the clachan o'er
Can crack like him 'bout onie thing:
They say that wi' the deil he deals!—
It may be sae; but even he
Maun steek his gab when clinkin' ben
At e'enin' comes the Dominie!
Where oranges like brambles hing,—
There's ne'er a ane the clachan o'er
Can crack like him 'bout onie thing:
They say that wi' the deil he deals!—
It may be sae; but even he
Maun steek his gab when clinkin' ben
At e'enin' comes the Dominie!
An' sic a face he does put on
On Sabbath when he sings the Psalm!
The auld wives of the parochin
Are thinkin' him a gospel lamb.
At weddin's, when the lave are blithe,
Wi' auld folk doucely sitteth he
Till Minister an' Elders gang;—
But syne—up bangs the Dominie!
On Sabbath when he sings the Psalm!
The auld wives of the parochin
Are thinkin' him a gospel lamb.
At weddin's, when the lave are blithe,
Wi' auld folk doucely sitteth he
Till Minister an' Elders gang;—
But syne—up bangs the Dominie!
Frae cheek to chin—frae lug to lug—
The lasses round he kisses a',
An' loups an' dances, cracks his thoums,
Nor hamewith steers till mornin' daw;
An' whiles at e'en to our door cheek
He comes, an' sleelie winks on me,—
Yestreen, ayont the kailyard dyke,
I 'greed to wed the Dominie!
The lasses round he kisses a',
An' loups an' dances, cracks his thoums,
Nor hamewith steers till mornin' daw;
31
He comes, an' sleelie winks on me,—
Yestreen, ayont the kailyard dyke,
I 'greed to wed the Dominie!
| Poems by Robert Nicoll | |