Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner |
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GLAMOURIE; OR, MESMERISM AS WE HAVE
IT AT INVERURY. |
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 | Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver |  |
GLAMOURIE; OR, MESMERISM AS WE HAVE IT AT INVERURY.
A carlie cam' to our toun,
An' bade our drumster rair an' soun',
Till a' the fouk ran rinnin' doun
T' see fat they could see.
An' bade our drumster rair an' soun',
Till a' the fouk ran rinnin' doun
T' see fat they could see.
77
Fat think ye o' the carlie,
The glowrin' fykin' carlie,
The fell auld-fashion'd carlie,
Wi' a' his glamourie?
The glowrin' fykin' carlie,
The fell auld-fashion'd carlie,
Wi' a' his glamourie?
Some cam' wi' faith, some cam' wi' fear,
An' monie cam' frae far an' near,
Wi' nae a few that cam' to sneer,
An' oh, they lookit slee!
An' monie cam' frae far an' near,
Wi' nae a few that cam' to sneer,
An' oh, they lookit slee!
An' bureght roun' the carlie,
An' wonnert at the carlie,
An' cried “Fa are ye carlie?
An' fat a' can ye dee?”
An' wonnert at the carlie,
An' cried “Fa are ye carlie?
An' fat a' can ye dee?”
He took my auntie by the thumb,
An' grippet aye my auntie's thumb,
An' aye he squeez'd my auntie's thumb,
An' glowr'd intill her e'e.
An' grippet aye my auntie's thumb,
An' aye he squeez'd my auntie's thumb,
An' glowr'd intill her e'e.
Out fie the fu'some carlie!
The ill contrivin' carlie!
He fumm'lt aye ahint her lug,
An' ca'ed her “Miss-Meree!”
The ill contrivin' carlie!
He fumm'lt aye ahint her lug,
An' ca'ed her “Miss-Meree!”
He faun' ayont the tailor's tap,
An' cam', gweed life! on sic a knap!
His Meggy's heart it flew an' lap,
For weel I wot kent she.
An' cam', gweed life! on sic a knap!
His Meggy's heart it flew an' lap,
For weel I wot kent she.
78
But aye the rubbin' carlie,
He blew an' blastit sairly,
Till legs an' armies fairly
Stood stark like ony tree!
He blew an' blastit sairly,
Till legs an' armies fairly
Stood stark like ony tree!
Ye Debtors deft,—ye Cravers keen,
Ye Lovers, too, wha roam alane,
Ne'er look ower lang in ither's een,
In case o' what might be!
Ye Lovers, too, wha roam alane,
Ne'er look ower lang in ither's een,
In case o' what might be!
For gin ye meet a carlie,
A keekin' cunnin' carlie,
Ye yet may rue richt sairly
The glamour o' his e'e.
A keekin' cunnin' carlie,
Ye yet may rue richt sairly
The glamour o' his e'e.
| Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver | |