Merchant poems |
 | 1. |
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The merry Wives of Musleburgh, at their meeting together, to Welcome
MEG DICKSON after her Loup from the Ladder. |
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 | Merchant |  |
The merry Wives of Musleburgh, at their meeting together, to Welcome MEG DICKSON after her Loup from the Ladder.
O qualis hurlie burlie fuit,
Si forte vidisses.
Polem. Mid.
Si forte vidisses.
Polem. Mid.
1
That Day when Meg sair Tasle got,Wi' Hangie's Beeds about her Throat:
Three clav'ring Carlings o'er their Pot:
a spewing fou,
Whing'd when they thought on Maggie's Trot
down the West Bow.
2
The aldest Cummer of the Three,(Born whan the English took Dundee)
Cry'd, shame light on that Lown-like Tree
plays sic foul Tricks.
De'll nor it were hewn down for me,
to Puddin Pricks.
3
What's come of a our Witches now,11
Wha like a String of wild Geese flew
last Halla-Even,
And made my Skin baith blae and blue,
fell'd Tittie Jean.
4
They say, ald Nick Commands the Air,Whan drunken Maggie's hanging there;
Not for to help her, were unfair,
Pox take sick D---ls,
To let Dalgleish, O Dole and Care,
pou down her Heels.
5
Had a the Wives that carries Creels,Gutsters, and we wha spin on Wheels,
At brake of Day made souple Heels,
ta'ne her awa
Fra the Cheese Loft near to St. Giles,
we'd mock't the Law.
6
But now 'tis e'en o'er late, I think,Besides, I've got nine Draps of Drink:
I'm fitter for to take a Wink
of Sleep, I trow,
And Bessie, ye ha' got a Blink:
confess ye're fow.
7
Thrice Bessie farted, ga a Rift,Rubbing her Head was out of Tift;
And syne her Words fell down like Drift,
blatter'd like Hail,
12
and scratch'd her Tail.
8
Ken ye the Schetlan Cockle Shell,I mind I brought it hame my sell,
Gi'en be the auld Goodman in Hell,
he's kind to me.
Fra a' the Boats it bears the Bell,
e'er crost the Sea.
9
At our new Key I'll shipping take,And if I bring blyth Maggie back,
I think a' Musleburgh may crack,
and Fisherra,
Grissie, ride ye upon my Back,
and we'll awa.
10
Jean Jap, who lives in Pittenweem,I saw her last Night in a Dream,
Upon a Hoast will to us sweem
like Cu'ross Cat,
She from a Rape draws Milk and Cream
will fill a Pat.
11
We'll dance upon the Ladder Top,Whan Hangie puts Meg in the Rope;
To his Design we'll put a Stop,
and Glamer cast,
That she's cald dead, the Carle will hope,
and breath'd her last.
13
12
And when Dalgleish cuts Maggie down,My Boat shall bear her thro' the Town,
To the Wind-mill, and there will soon,
start up a Cart,
{My Boat} will neither break nor drown,
I ha sick Art.
13
Carlin ca' a' your Cummers in,And be upon a merry Pin;
At Night we shall ha' a fow Skin,
and Merry grow,
Whan I bring Maggie to her Kin,
fra Hangie's Tow.
14
Syn baith evanish in the Air,And Luckie sa their Face na mair;
But heard their Arse ga sick a Rair,
blew thro' the Links,
The Blast turn'd a' the Peuther Ware
down frae the Binks.
15
At Night when Suters leave their Lingles,And Bairns come laden hame with Singles,
And ald Wives kindle up their Ingles
to last till Ten,
Luckie heard a' the Doors gi' Gingles,
sae they came ben.
16
Saying, Swith to the Door and meet:Meg Dickson in her Winding-sheet:
Na Wonder, that she has sair Feet,
and gangs na fast,
14
but now 'tis past.
17
Luckie out o'er the Threshel goes,There ties her Shoen, draws up her Hose,
Pat Spectacles upon her Nose,
but e'er she wist,
Couped, because she'd got a Dose,
o'er Maggie's Kist.
18
O dole, she cries, I ha' na Pith,I've dung my Thigh Bain out of Lith,
The mickle D---l take her with
his cloven Feet,
For forty Days, I'll gi' my Aith,
I winna Eat.
19
But whan she saw the Milk-white Gaist,She gather'd up her Heels wi' haste,
Fell in a Gutter to the Waist,
there lay again,
Quoth she, was ever an sae Taist?
I scarce dow grain.
20
Maggie said, and she spake na Joke,Cummer, I think my Heart's half broke;
This Day I have been wi' fashious Folk,
as e'er I saw,
They brought me in an unka Lock,
wa worth them a'.
21
They sang Kirk Tunes and gart me dance,15
Untill I fell into a Trance,
cald be their cast,
I cannot tell you how to Scance
on a' that's past.
22
I trow, to be with them's nae Mows,I took them a' for Worry-cows;
Sair did my Heart fa' in the Hows,
lap af the Stak,
I did not loe their powder'd Pows,
Plague on the Pack.
23
They bade me ay make clean Confession,And tald me of my great Transgression;
It was an unka Kind o' Session,
sib to ald Nick,
I never met wi' sick Oppression
sin I was quick.
24
Before I were with them, I swear,I'd rather drink Dub-water here;
They've got a lang toom wooden Mear
to dance upon,
And wha's their Chaplin, will ye hear,
our awn Mes John,
25
I love Mes John, L---d len him Heal,Altho' I hae no mickle Skill,
I think he Preaches unca well
well may he be,
But frae yon Hearers and the D---l,
the L---d keep me,
16
26
To clim yon Stair is na sma Task,As high's the Kirk of Innerask,
And o'er my Face they drew a Mask
I cou'd na see,
And then the Beddle came to ask,
ye'll pardon me.
27
Whan near the Tap of a' the Tree,As if they he'd cry'd Come a' to me,
Donsily Cheek for Chow sat We
as we had been great,
Wha than could thought we wad na gree?
But bide ye yet.
28
Shame fa the Carle's Chafts that spake it,I'm sure yon Fok's gan a' distracket,
He gave me such a devilish Racket,
that o'er flew I,
I spake na mair than our Salt-backit
and dought na cry.
29
He flighter'd every Arm and Leg,And made a Nofe o' Wax of Meg,
O! but I got a desp'rate Fleg,
pat me half daft,
I vow I had rather gang and beg,
than feel his Craft.
30
At first I wonder'd what he mean'dNa Pity shaw'd when I complain'd;
But then he girnt like a Hell-Feind,
and o'er me threw,
17
at Shuggie shew.
31
But I wan aff be Mights of Marie,I thought it dang'rous for to tarrie
It's war nor playing at Blin Harrie,
and Time to flee,
E'n let them make a Firie Farie,
they'll no catch me.
32
Then Bessie mumled with her Lips,And crawl'd, and cry'd, and claw'd her Hips,
For no Gear wa'd I born your Snips,
it was unluckie,
But sen you're gotten out o's Grips,
gi'e John a Bukkie.
33
Dra in the Cripie and sit down,There's reaming Swats come to the Town,
Aha, and there comes Eppie Brown;
bang the Bicker,
Ye winna hang, I fear ye drown
among good Licker.
34
Eppie first sain'd her self, and syne,Cry'd, Dare I trust my awn twa Eyen,
Wow honest Meg whar ha'e ye been
amang the Gleds.
The Wives are coming here be deen,
and Bairns fra Beds.
35
Come take a drink, and tell the Way,Ye was ill guided some Folk say,
They set you ay to greet and pray
The Folk in Black,
18
a lang dry Crack.
36
Quoth Meg, when in that cursed Spot,Where never Saul can win a Groat,
Nane of them came to weet my Throat;
na Pint nor Gill,
I could not make a better o't
I pray'd my fill.
37
The Red Coats drag'd me to red Gowns,O! but they be a Byke o' Lowns,
They're war nor a our Scots Dragoons,
ay speaking La,
I wad ha given fiftie Crowns
to been awa.
38
A Child ca'd Dempster ga' a Rair,I wish that Fellow ne'er speak mair,
Fain wad I flung him o'er the Stair:
e'er e'er I kend,
My Spauls plaid quake, and a' my Hair,
stood upon End.
39
I thought for a' the Law they had,Really the Men were a gane mad,
To make a Poor Things Heart so sad,
as they made me,
And put a Life out, which I wed,
they cannot gi'.
40
Out o'er the Hallon keikt Nans Blair,Cry'd, Cheat the Woodie, are ye there,
Ye're e'en the very wyle of Wair,
an Sonsie Dear,
19
to see you here.
41
Wha wad ha tald this Yesternight,This Day we wad seen sic a Sight,
We wad na thought them very right,
in their Noddle,
We wad nae gi'en for you, poor Wight,
A bare Bodle.
42
I mind a Tale my Granddame spake,Well cou'd the couthsome Carling crack,
Crosses that bring Fok maist to Wrack;
brings some sma' gain,
Ye've got a new Suit on your Back,
to make you fain,
43
A braw Kist made be my ha'f Brother,I'd be ha'f hang'd for sick another;
For if I may believe my Mother,
she swears to me,
We drink sae fast with an another,
we'll Beggars die,
44
Now Magie, I'll harl in the Stool,Altho' the Sown-Pat should cool,
Fegs I cou'd clatter here till Yule.
and no think lang,
Meg, tell me, ye been at the School,
is't sair to hang?
45
Quoth Meg let me my Story tell,Soon as I frae the Gallows fell,
20
which Bessie gave.
Better is in Musleburgh to dwell,
nor a cald Grave.
46
Follow'd by mony a Whore and Bawd,And mony a murdering Surgeon Lad,
They're perfet D---ls, war nor they're ca'd,
I'd fain been hame,
I thought wi' Knives, and Sheers they wad.
rip up my Wame.
47
I took a Rest at Pepper-Mill,A het Pint and a double Gill,
Indeed it did not do me ill;
but meikle good,
Pet Purdie, wha has right good Skill,
of me drew Blood.
48
When I sat up upon the Grass,Before them all upon my Arse:
To see my Blood, I must confess,
I was not fain,
In Hangies greatest Rop-Distress,
I felt no Pain.
49
Syne I came unco bravely hame,Whan I got Sunkets in my Wame,
I'll tell ye all, and ne'er think Shame,
Sae wad ye a',
When Folks half Hang'd, who can them blame,
to rin awa',
50
Now Cummers, sen I am come back,E'en let us birl about our Plack,
21
upo' the Leather?
I do nae mind a Word I spake
when in the Teather.
| Merchant | |