 | Poems and songs |  |
98
FAREWELL ADDRESS,
SPOKEN BY MR GRANT, AT HIS BENEFIT, THEATRE-ROYAL, 1ST OCTOBER 1796.
Wow! wha wad think, that shaws his noddle here,
That surly tyke, ca'd Winter, were sae near?
For up an' down, where'er I cast my een,
As 'twere in spring, sweet new-blawn flowers are seen.
But wherefore ferlie, whan I ken this night,
'Tis Reekie's Lasses that attract my sight?
An' sure the sweetest roses ever blew
Wad tine their beauties whan compared wi' you.
They, for a wee, their gaudy garb assume;
But ye're aye bonny, in perpetual bloom.
To menseless fallows, wha wad daring gang,
An' mint to do sic smiling dawties wrang,
May nipping poortith never mercy shaw,
But gie them cauld an' hungry wames to claw:
Nay, may their wizens ne'er find whauky's fissle,
But turn as geyzend as a bawbee whistle.
Yet dinna think I mean, by what I say,
That ony siccan gowks hae come this way;
Na, troth, that verdict maunna here be passed;
Auld Reekie's sons are o' a different cast.
O Scotia, Scotia, ye may crousely crack,
Whan ye've sic sonsy callants at your back,
Wha'll stand your friends against your bauldest faes,
As Bruce an' Wallace did in former days.
Ye too can lout (your faes will e'en confess,)
To lift a chiel that's coupit by distress.
That surly tyke, ca'd Winter, were sae near?
For up an' down, where'er I cast my een,
As 'twere in spring, sweet new-blawn flowers are seen.
But wherefore ferlie, whan I ken this night,
'Tis Reekie's Lasses that attract my sight?
An' sure the sweetest roses ever blew
Wad tine their beauties whan compared wi' you.
They, for a wee, their gaudy garb assume;
But ye're aye bonny, in perpetual bloom.
To menseless fallows, wha wad daring gang,
An' mint to do sic smiling dawties wrang,
99
But gie them cauld an' hungry wames to claw:
Nay, may their wizens ne'er find whauky's fissle,
But turn as geyzend as a bawbee whistle.
Yet dinna think I mean, by what I say,
That ony siccan gowks hae come this way;
Na, troth, that verdict maunna here be passed;
Auld Reekie's sons are o' a different cast.
O Scotia, Scotia, ye may crousely crack,
Whan ye've sic sonsy callants at your back,
Wha'll stand your friends against your bauldest faes,
As Bruce an' Wallace did in former days.
Ye too can lout (your faes will e'en confess,)
To lift a chiel that's coupit by distress.
Hech, sirs! whan sic great patrons deign to aid
Me wi' their pithy lifts, sae friendly made,
Your kindness sae o'ercomes me ilka way,
I'm scant o' words for what I fain wad say:
But sure my havins wad be unco sma',
To let sic fair occasion slip awa,
An' never mint my gratefu' thanks to make,
An' set the best foot foremost for your sake.
To thank you for your couthy care an' pains,
Fu' weel, ye ken, I'd reason mair than ance;
My best deservings were but little feck,
Nor could I e'er sic patronage expect:
An' in return, sin' I've nae mair to gie,
Accept my kindest wishes, frank an' free.
May Peace an' Plenty on ye constant flow,
An' a' that's sweet an' dainty round ye row;
May ye ne'er want a fouth o' clink to jingle,
An' laughing bairnies round ilk canty ingle;
An' Madam Fortune, ilka day an' hour,
On you her best, her choicest blessings pour.
Me wi' their pithy lifts, sae friendly made,
Your kindness sae o'ercomes me ilka way,
I'm scant o' words for what I fain wad say:
But sure my havins wad be unco sma',
To let sic fair occasion slip awa,
100
An' set the best foot foremost for your sake.
To thank you for your couthy care an' pains,
Fu' weel, ye ken, I'd reason mair than ance;
My best deservings were but little feck,
Nor could I e'er sic patronage expect:
An' in return, sin' I've nae mair to gie,
Accept my kindest wishes, frank an' free.
May Peace an' Plenty on ye constant flow,
An' a' that's sweet an' dainty round ye row;
May ye ne'er want a fouth o' clink to jingle,
An' laughing bairnies round ilk canty ingle;
An' Madam Fortune, ilka day an' hour,
On you her best, her choicest blessings pour.
For me, poor chiel! I've kent her mony a day,
An' stachered lang aneath her lades o' wae;
For by the quean (what mortal, sirs, could bide it?)
I've been like ony foot-ba' sair misguided.
She'd glunch at me—I'd laugh at her again,
In hopes she'd frae her thrawart gates refrain;
But wae's my heart that siccan days I see!
The cummer's fairly got the heels o' me:
For now I'm doomed, nor can the trick be shunned,
(Deil tak her wiles!) to leave my auld calf-ground;
To leave Auld Reekie, whare, I weel can say,
I've spent fu' mony a blythe an' cheery day.
Gang whare I will, for siller or for fame,
Whan gane frae Reekie, sure I've left my hame;
Whilk aft will make me say, whan I'm awa,
“O Reekie! Reekie! thou'rt the best of a'!”
—An' sooner evergreens shall lose their hue,
An' sturdy aiks like souple willows bow;
Sooner shall Arthur's Seat nae mair be seen,
An' E'nbrough Castle flit to Heriot's Green,
Than I, however high or laigh I be,
Forget the kindness that ye've shewn to me:
An' though I'm forced to bid Fareweel in pain,
The chace may turn, an' we may meet again.
An' stachered lang aneath her lades o' wae;
For by the quean (what mortal, sirs, could bide it?)
I've been like ony foot-ba' sair misguided.
She'd glunch at me—I'd laugh at her again,
In hopes she'd frae her thrawart gates refrain;
101
The cummer's fairly got the heels o' me:
For now I'm doomed, nor can the trick be shunned,
(Deil tak her wiles!) to leave my auld calf-ground;
To leave Auld Reekie, whare, I weel can say,
I've spent fu' mony a blythe an' cheery day.
Gang whare I will, for siller or for fame,
Whan gane frae Reekie, sure I've left my hame;
Whilk aft will make me say, whan I'm awa,
“O Reekie! Reekie! thou'rt the best of a'!”
—An' sooner evergreens shall lose their hue,
An' sturdy aiks like souple willows bow;
Sooner shall Arthur's Seat nae mair be seen,
An' E'nbrough Castle flit to Heriot's Green,
Than I, however high or laigh I be,
Forget the kindness that ye've shewn to me:
An' though I'm forced to bid Fareweel in pain,
The chace may turn, an' we may meet again.
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