Poems and songs By the late Richard Gall. With a memoir of the author |
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ELEGY ON PUDDING LIZZIE. |
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 | Poems and songs |  |
64
ELEGY ON PUDDING LIZZIE.
She's gane! she's gane!—O'er true the tale!
She's left us a' to sab an' wail!
Auld Clatterbanes has hit the nail
Upo' the head;
Deil o' his carcase mak a flail,
Sin' Lizzie's dead!
She's left us a' to sab an' wail!
Auld Clatterbanes has hit the nail
Upo' the head;
Deil o' his carcase mak a flail,
Sin' Lizzie's dead!
O Death! O Death! thou'rt void o' feeling!
For wi' thy deadly whittle stealing
Through gentle hald, or hamely sheeling,
Wi' divet rigging,
Thou send'st the best o' bodies, reeling,
To their cauld bigging.
For wi' thy deadly whittle stealing
Through gentle hald, or hamely sheeling,
Wi' divet rigging,
Thou send'st the best o' bodies, reeling,
To their cauld bigging.
65
Hadst thou but claughted wi' thy claw
A Lord, a Duke, or baith the twa,
The skaith, I trow, had been but sma',
Ane might forgie ye;
But Lizzie thus to steal awa,
O wae be t'ye!
A Lord, a Duke, or baith the twa,
The skaith, I trow, had been but sma',
Ane might forgie ye;
But Lizzie thus to steal awa,
O wae be t'ye!
Auld Reekie's callants, mourn wi' me;
Your waes, alake! are sair to dree:
O mourn the days—the days o' glee,
Now fled awa!
I see the tear in mony an e'e,
Fu' sadly fa'.
Your waes, alake! are sair to dree:
O mourn the days—the days o' glee,
Now fled awa!
I see the tear in mony an e'e,
Fu' sadly fa'.
O, mony a time, ance on a day,
In cheery bangs we've ta'en our way,
Ilk birkie keenly bent on play,
Wi' hearts fu' light,
An' for a wee set Care astray,
Far out o' sight.
In cheery bangs we've ta'en our way,
Ilk birkie keenly bent on play,
Wi' hearts fu' light,
An' for a wee set Care astray,
Far out o' sight.
66
An' whan we reached her little dwalling,
Whare tuilzied birds wi' bluidy talon,
How kind she met us at the hallan,
Led to the ha',
“Gude-e'en! gude-e'en!” aye loudly bawling,
An' becking law.
Whare tuilzied birds wi' bluidy talon,
How kind she met us at the hallan,
Led to the ha',
“Gude-e'en! gude-e'en!” aye loudly bawling,
An' becking law.
Syne what a fyke, an' what a fraising!
“The puddings, bairns, are just in season—
“They're newly made—the kettle's bizzing—
“Sae dinna fret;
“Mair sappy anes ne'er crossed your wizen,
“Although I say't.”
“The puddings, bairns, are just in season—
“They're newly made—the kettle's bizzing—
“Sae dinna fret;
“Mair sappy anes ne'er crossed your wizen,
“Although I say't.”
Saul! how it sharpened, ilka ane,
Whan wi' them she came todlin ben,
A' piping like a roasted hen,
(Braw healthy eating!)
Wi' timmer pins at ilka end,
To haud the meat in.
Whan wi' them she came todlin ben,
A' piping like a roasted hen,
(Braw healthy eating!)
Wi' timmer pins at ilka end,
To haud the meat in.
67
An' then she had the knack sae weel,
To gust the gab o' ony chiel
Wi' spiceries brought through danger's fiel',
Frae India's coast,
An' ingans, mixt wi' gude ait-meal,
Auld Scotia's boast.
To gust the gab o' ony chiel
Wi' spiceries brought through danger's fiel',
Frae India's coast,
An' ingans, mixt wi' gude ait-meal,
Auld Scotia's boast.
Thus seated round her canty ingle,
O how the knives an' forks wad ringle,
An' cutty-spoons 'mang puddings mingle,
Hoved up sae waly;
An caps an' trenchers in a jingle
A' scarted brawly.
O how the knives an' forks wad ringle,
An' cutty-spoons 'mang puddings mingle,
Hoved up sae waly;
An caps an' trenchers in a jingle
A' scarted brawly.
Did ony relish cauler water?
Na, faith, it was na in our nature:
We boot to hae a wee drap creature,
Gude Papish Whisky;
It beits new life in ilka feature,
An' keeps ane brisk aye.
Na, faith, it was na in our nature:
We boot to hae a wee drap creature,
Gude Papish Whisky;
It beits new life in ilka feature,
An' keeps ane brisk aye.
68
Whan she begoud to crack her creed,
I've seen our chafts maist like to screed;
In short, at times a single thread
Might e'en hae tied us;
An', vow! how crouse she cocked her head,
Whan set beside us!
I've seen our chafts maist like to screed;
In short, at times a single thread
Might e'en hae tied us;
An', vow! how crouse she cocked her head,
Whan set beside us!
The mair the pith o' barley shone,
The mair was heard Mirth's social tone;
An' sang, an' joke, an' toast, gaed roun',
Wi' glee imprinted,
While busy Time still jogged on,
Unmarked, untented;
The mair was heard Mirth's social tone;
An' sang, an' joke, an' toast, gaed roun',
Wi' glee imprinted,
While busy Time still jogged on,
Unmarked, untented;
Till Night, her sable mantle dreeping,
Brought Luna o'er St Anthon's peeping,
An' dowie ghaists, frae kirk-yards creeping,
Began to wander,
Whan we, frae Lizzie's kindly keeping,
Wad hamewards dander.
Brought Luna o'er St Anthon's peeping,
An' dowie ghaists, frae kirk-yards creeping,
Began to wander,
Whan we, frae Lizzie's kindly keeping,
Wad hamewards dander.
69
Oh, wae's my heart! now, whan she's gane,
How sad an' altered is the strain!
To pudding-feasts, an' rants fu' fain,
Nae mair we'll pap in;
Our wames e'en to our rigging-bane
Like skate-fish clapping.
How sad an' altered is the strain!
To pudding-feasts, an' rants fu' fain,
Nae mair we'll pap in;
Our wames e'en to our rigging-bane
Like skate-fish clapping.
But whisht! for mair I canna speak—
The tears come rapping down my cheek,
To mark her grave, sae cauld an' bleak,
The green grass growing;
But L---d keep her frae Hornie's creek,
Black, sooty, lowing!
The tears come rapping down my cheek,
To mark her grave, sae cauld an' bleak,
The green grass growing;
But L---d keep her frae Hornie's creek,
Black, sooty, lowing!
Then O fareweel to feasting rare,
An' scrieving cracks that drave aff care!
Fareweel to ranting late an' ear',
Sae blythe an' frisky!
An' eke, fareweel, for ever mair,
To Papish Whisky!
An' scrieving cracks that drave aff care!
Fareweel to ranting late an' ear',
Sae blythe an' frisky!
An' eke, fareweel, for ever mair,
To Papish Whisky!
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