The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill ... A New Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. In Two Volumes |
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| II. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill |  |
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PART II.
Maist things hae a sma' beginning,
But wha kens how things will end?
Weekly clubs are nae great sinning,
If folk hae enough to spend.
But wha kens how things will end?
Weekly clubs are nae great sinning,
If folk hae enough to spend.
But nae man o'sober thinking
E'er will say that things can thrive,
If there's spent in weekly drinking
What keeps wife and weans alive.
E'er will say that things can thrive,
If there's spent in weekly drinking
What keeps wife and weans alive.
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Drink maun aye hae conversation,
Ilka social soul allows;
But, in this reforming nation,
Wha can speak without the news?
Ilka social soul allows;
But, in this reforming nation,
Wha can speak without the news?
News, first meant for state physicians,
Deeply skilled in courtly drugs;
Now, whan a'are politicians,
Just to set folks by the lugs.—
Deeply skilled in courtly drugs;
Now, whan a'are politicians,
Just to set folks by the lugs.—
Maggie's club, wha could get nae light
On some things that should be clear,
Found ere lang the fault, and ae night
Clubbed, and got the Gazetteer .
On some things that should be clear,
Found ere lang the fault, and ae night
Clubbed, and got the Gazetteer .
21
Twice a week to Maggie's cot-house,
Swift! by post the papers fled!
Thoughts spring up like plants in hot-house,
Every time the news are read.
Swift! by post the papers fled!
Thoughts spring up like plants in hot-house,
Every time the news are read.
Ilk ane's wiser than anither,—
‘Things are no ga'en right,’ quo' Tam,
‘Let us aftener meet thegither;
Twice a week's no worth a d---n.’
‘Things are no ga'en right,’ quo' Tam,
‘Let us aftener meet thegither;
Twice a week's no worth a d---n.’
See them now in grave convention,
To mak a'things ‘square and even;’
Or at least wi' firm intention
To drink sax nights out o'seven.
To mak a'things ‘square and even;’
Or at least wi' firm intention
To drink sax nights out o'seven.
22
Mid this sitting up and drinking,
Gathering a'the news that fell;
Will, wha was nae yet past thinking,
Had some battles wi' himsell.
Gathering a'the news that fell;
Will, wha was nae yet past thinking,
Had some battles wi' himsell.
On ae hand, drink's deadly poison
Bare ilk firm resolve awa;
On the ither, Jean's condition
Rave his very heart in twa.
Bare ilk firm resolve awa;
On the ither, Jean's condition
Rave his very heart in twa.
Weel he saw her smothered sorrow!
Weel he saw her bleaching cheek!
Marked the smile she strave to borrow,
When, poor thing, she could nae speak!
Weel he saw her bleaching cheek!
Marked the smile she strave to borrow,
When, poor thing, she could nae speak!
23
Jean, at first, took little heed o'
Weekly clubs mang three or four,
Thought, kind soul! that Will had need o'
Heartsome hours whan wark was owre.
Weekly clubs mang three or four,
Thought, kind soul! that Will had need o'
Heartsome hours whan wark was owre.
But whan now that nightly meetings
Sat and drank frae sax till twa;
Whan she faund that hard-earned gettings
Now on drink ware thrown awa;
Sat and drank frae sax till twa;
Whan she faund that hard-earned gettings
Now on drink ware thrown awa;
Saw her Will, wha ance sae cheerie
Raise ilk morning wi' the lark,
Now grown mauchless, dowf and sweer aye
To look near his farm or wark;
Raise ilk morning wi' the lark,
Now grown mauchless, dowf and sweer aye
To look near his farm or wark;
24
Saw him tyne his manly spirit,
Healthy bloom, and sprightly ee;
And o'love and hame grown wearit,
Nightly frae his family flee;—
Healthy bloom, and sprightly ee;
And o'love and hame grown wearit,
Nightly frae his family flee;—
Wha could blame her heart's complaining?
Wha condemn her sorrows meek?
Or the tears that now ilk e'ening
Bleached her lately crimsoned cheek!—
Wha condemn her sorrows meek?
Or the tears that now ilk e'ening
Bleached her lately crimsoned cheek!—
Will, wha lang had rued and swithered,
(Aye ashamed o'past disgrace)
Marked the roses as they withered
Fast on Jeanie's lovely face!
(Aye ashamed o'past disgrace)
Marked the roses as they withered
Fast on Jeanie's lovely face!
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Marked,—and felt wi' inward racking,
A'the wyte lay wi' himsel,—
Swore next night he'd mak a breaking,—
D---d the club and news to hell!
A'the wyte lay wi' himsel,—
Swore next night he'd mak a breaking,—
D---d the club and news to hell!
But, alas! whan habit's rooted,
Few hae pith the root to pu';
Will's resolves were aye nonsuited,
Promised aye, but aye got fou;
Few hae pith the root to pu';
Will's resolves were aye nonsuited,
Promised aye, but aye got fou;
Aye at first at the convening
Moralized on what was right,—
Yet o'er clavers entertaining
Dozed and drank till brade day-light.
Moralized on what was right,—
Yet o'er clavers entertaining
Dozed and drank till brade day-light.
26
Things at length draw near an ending;
Cash runs out; Jean, quite unhappy,
Sees that Will is now past mending,
Tynes a'heart, and taks a—drappy !
Cash runs out; Jean, quite unhappy,
Sees that Will is now past mending,
Tynes a'heart, and taks a—drappy !
Ilka drink deserves a posey;
Port maks men rude, claret civil;
Beer maks Britons stout and rosy,
Whisky maks ilk wife—a devil.
Port maks men rude, claret civil;
Beer maks Britons stout and rosy,
Whisky maks ilk wife—a devil.
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Jean, wha lately bore affliction
Wi' sae meek and mild an air,
Schooled by whisky, learns new tricks soon,
Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair.
Wi' sae meek and mild an air,
Schooled by whisky, learns new tricks soon,
Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair.
Jean, sae late the tenderest mither,
Fond of ilk dear dauted wean!
Now, heart-hardened a'thegither,
Skelps them round frae morn till e'en.
Fond of ilk dear dauted wean!
Now, heart-hardened a'thegither,
Skelps them round frae morn till e'en.
Jean, wha vogie, loo'd to busk aye
In her hame-spun, thrifty wark;
Now sells a'her braws for whisky,
To her last gown, coat, and sark!
In her hame-spun, thrifty wark;
Now sells a'her braws for whisky,
To her last gown, coat, and sark!
28
Robin Burns, in mony a ditty,
Loudly sings in whisky's praise;
Sweet his sang!—the mair's the pity
E'er on it he wared sic lays.
Loudly sings in whisky's praise;
Sweet his sang!—the mair's the pity
E'er on it he wared sic lays.
Of a'the ills poor Caledonia
E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste,
Brewed in hell's black Pandemonia,
Whisky's ill will scaith her maist!—
E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste,
Brewed in hell's black Pandemonia,
Whisky's ill will scaith her maist!—
‘Wha was ance like Willie Gairlace!
Wha in neighbouring town or farm?
Beauty's bloom shone in his fair face,
Deadly strength was in his arm!
Wha in neighbouring town or farm?
Beauty's bloom shone in his fair face,
Deadly strength was in his arm!
29
‘Whan he first saw Jeanie Miller,
Wha wi' Jeanie could compare?
Thousands had mair braws and siller,
But were ony half sae fair?’
Wha wi' Jeanie could compare?
Thousands had mair braws and siller,
But were ony half sae fair?’
See them now—how changed wi' drinking!
A'their youthfu' beauty gane!—
Davered, doited, daized and blinking,
Worn to perfect skin and bane!
A'their youthfu' beauty gane!—
Davered, doited, daized and blinking,
Worn to perfect skin and bane!
In the cauld month o'November,
(Claise, and cash, and credit out)
Cowring o'er a dying ember,
Wi' ilk face as white's a clout;
(Claise, and cash, and credit out)
Cowring o'er a dying ember,
Wi' ilk face as white's a clout;
30
Bond and bill, and debts a'stopped,
Ilka sheaf selt on the bent;
Cattle beds, and blankets rouped,
Now to pay the laird his rent;
Ilka sheaf selt on the bent;
Cattle beds, and blankets rouped,
Now to pay the laird his rent;
No another night to lodge here!
No a friend their cause to plead!
He ta'en on to be a sodger,
She, wi' weans, to beg her bread!
No a friend their cause to plead!
He ta'en on to be a sodger,
She, wi' weans, to beg her bread!
‘O’ a'the ills poor Caledonia
E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste,
Brewed in hell's black Pandemonia,
Whisky's ill will scaith her maist!!
E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste,
Brewed in hell's black Pandemonia,
Whisky's ill will scaith her maist!!
The author cannot refrain from seizing the last opportunity he may ever have, to caution his female readers against the vice, here intentionally introduced. Women are not sufficiently aware of the danger annexed to the smallest indulgence in spirituous liquors. A delicate frame, or a susceptible mind, experiencing a temporary relief from a pernicious stimulus, has recourse to it at a time when the best cordials are fortitude and resignation. Hence the deplorable habit of dram-drinking—a habit the most disgusting! —the most degrading to the female character!
| The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill | |