The har'st rig, and the farmer's ha' Two poems, in the Scottish dialect. Second edition, corrected [by Charles Keith] |
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 | The har'st rig, and the farmer's ha' |  |
1
To ape our good plain country fouks
In verse and style.
Beattie.
In verse and style.
Beattie.
5
THE Har'st Rig.
Written in Autumn 1786, BY A FARMER IN THE VICINITY OF EDINBURGH.
------ The Rural talk,
The rural scandal, and the rural jest,
Fly harmless to deceive the tedious time,
And steal, unfelt, the sultry hours away.
Seasons.
The rural scandal, and the rural jest,
Fly harmless to deceive the tedious time,
And steal, unfelt, the sultry hours away.
Seasons.
SUBJECT OF THE HAR'ST RIG.
Approach of Harvest. Preparations for cutting the Crop. Arrival of Highland Shearers. From whence, and their professions. Commencement of operations and arrangement of Reapers. Gleaners turned off for bad behaviour. Breakfast: Conversation ardent after this. The Chelseaman. Desultory observations. The Flyte. The Kemp. The Shower. Broken day. The Dance. The Dinner. Pease-shearing in the afternoon. Songs. Loosing time. Bed-making. Getting up in the morning. Paying off on Saturday evening. Harvest more busy in the following week. A Mob in the Port. A Mutiny at home. Har'st draws to a close, and finally concludes with the Kirn, or Harvest-home Feast.
1
The Har'st time is a time o' thrangFor which we ha'e sma' cause to lang,
For hard sair wark, wi' mony a bang
Does ay attend it;
And weather aft does bruckle gang
As we ha'e kend it.
2
But wha has pleasure wanting pain?What tho' we ha'e baith wind and rain,
Let nane tyne heart, nor hand refrain,
But try their mettle,
For good-Sun-shine may come again,
And weather settle.
6
3
In mouth o' Har'st, whan corns do fill,And ripen fast, let nane sit still,
But try their strength, and show their will,
In being handy.
Let Lowland John then match his skill
Wi' Highland Sandie.
4
Let cottar wives ha'e washings ended,Their houses clean'd, and claes weel mended,
And a' their ither wark suspended,
Whan Har'st begins,
For ilka wife maun now attend it
That cards or spins.
5
For now the farmer views his corn,To see what's fittest to be shorn,
For yellow fields do now adorn,
The country-side;
And Har'st may e'en begin the morn,
It winnae bide.
6
But a' the servants dounae bear,That Har'st should be sae very near;
They ken the wark, and sair they fear,
It gars them quake:
And ay they tell, That, “a green shear
“Is an ill shake.”
7
7
But now the master gie's nae heedTo their auld sayings, wise indeed,
But answers them wi' pith and speed;
“The proverb says,
“That scaith and danger baith proceed
“Ay from delays.”
8
And straught he bids them a' turn out,Baith auld and young; baith frail and stout;
But ere they ha'e begun to lout,
In comes a bang
O' Highlanders, a fendy rout,
Baith yawl and strang.
9
O' these some frae Lochaber comeLang thretty miles ayont Tyndrum,
And some frae Mull; and ither some
Frae wild Lochiel,
Whare Mountain. goats and Roe-bucks roam
And Camerons dwell.
10
Frae Keppoch's and Glengarie's landsThere comes a power o' special hands;
Or eastward thence, whare Carie stands
By Rannoch loch,
Comes Struan's clan, and numerous bands
Frae Badenoch.
8
11
O! much behaden the Lowdons areTo this Supply o' reapers rare,
Without their aid ill wad we fare
In time o' need;
Industrious fowk beyond compare
In Har'st indeed!
12
They now spear gin the fam'ly's weel,And “fu gaes a',” most kind atweel;
That they shore here, they no conceal,
This time fernyear;
Then Duncan brags how meikle meal
She's eaten here.
13
They vow they'll wurk as weel's they can,And tak' sic wages as are gaen,
For weel do they lo'e the gudeman;
For, now they tell,
That his clan cam frae the same clan
They cam their sell.
14
And then they vow they'll never steerSae lang's he has a cut to shear,
But bide wi' him till fields are clear;
But,—wait awee!
Till ance some windy days appear,
And then ye'll see.
9
15
And forthwith then they a' down clankUpon the green; and rank by rank
Tak' what's to gi'e; for which they thank,
And mak' nae fike,
For some o' them are e'en right lank,
And hungry-like.
16
This being done, they straughtway gangInto the barn, which they've kent lang,
And there they sing a highland sang,
And dance awa';
The fiddler gi'es his strings a twang,
Which pleases a'.
17
Upon the morn the master looksTo see gin a' his fowk ha'e hooks;
For now sair wark amang the stooks
Is bideing them;
Whae'er he be frae this that jouks
Is fair to blame.
18
The hamelan' servants tak' the lead;The cottars next come on wi' speed,
And next to them the Embrugh breed;
A Randy race!
Of ill-tongu'd limmers, that exceed
In want o' grace.
10
19
To spur them on, and had them gaen,Behind is plac'd the highland clan,
Led on by Malcom, honest man,
Wha taks his snish,
And cries, whan they a clattering stan,'
“Curish Curish !”
20
Whan they ha'e a' their places ta'en,The master gangs frae ane to ane,
And redds them to “shear laigh and clean,
“For corn is dear,
“And fother's scant, as will be seen
“Thro'out the year.”
21
And then he bids them eident be,And no like drones wurk sluggardly,
For he nae wages has to gi'e
To idle folk;
Which if they be, he'll let them see
He disnae joke.
11
22
The ha-rig rins fu' fast awa,'For they're newfangle, ane and a',
But Donald thinks, for a' their blaw,
That he will fend,
He says, Their pride will get a fa'
Ere the week end.
23
The next rig redds them to tak' careTo cut their fur, and tak' their share
O' their nane rig. But ony mair?
The fient ae stime!
“For fowk ay wond'rous honest are
“In the Har'st time .”
24
And now some learner tries to shear,But comes right little speed I fear;
“The corn lies ill,” and ay we hear
“The sickle's bad.”
The bye-word says, “Ill shearer ne'er
“A good hook had.”
12
25
O' Gath'rers next, unruly-bands,Do spread themsel's athwart the Lands ;
And sair they green to try their hands
Amang the sheaves,
But that's against express commands;
For they're great thieves.
26
For which they're ordered far behind,To mak' such singles as they find;
But gin the master little mind,
They'll come again,
And plague him sair, till in the end
They pay the kain.
27
For they ha'e come sae aften back,And their auld trade begin to tak,'
The master now gies them a thwack
Wi' his lang staff,
And syne they're ordered a' to pack
Frae the field ass.
13
28
But now the parridge comes a-field,Which joy to ilka ane does yield:
For now ilk yap and hungry chield
Fu' blythe does look,
Wi's lass and coggie in the bield
O' some high stook.
29
For now the bickers weel they cramWi' good steeve brochin, braw an' warm,
Wi' which themsells they daily pang;
'Tis halesome cheer,
And halesome wark it is to gang
A-field and shear.
30
The Embrugh wives can hardly brookTo tak' their breakfast 'side a stook,
But ay at ane anither look,
As they thought shame;
Quo' they, “It was-nae thus we took
“Our tea at hame.”
31
The highlanders are no sae blate,But are fu blythe at sight o' meat;
They a' their weans around them seat,
And gi'em a share,
For weel ken they 'twas but o' late
They had to spare.
14
32
Now whan the stented time is pastWhich they're allow'd to break their fast,
The master comes, and calls wi' haste,
“Come, come awa'!
Airoch, airoch ! get up fast
Fhala fhala !
33
Wi' spirit bauld they wurk I trow,And mony a strange tale they tell now,
Of ilka thing that's rare or new
They never fag;
Auld proverb says, “Whan wames are fu'
“The tongues maun wag.'
34
Yet chiefly they their cracks confineTo things that happen'd lang-since-syne,
In days whan they war' in their prime;
O how they'll blaw!
“The sun in these days warm did shine,”
Even that's awa'!
35
Some carle that's weel ken'd to rift,Declares, whan in a blasting tift,
In days o' yore, how he cud lift
Twa bows o' bear,
And how he was amaist as swift
As ony deer!
15
36
Frae this he tells anither blaw;“Some rogues war' reeving in the ha'
“Whan he brak' in upon them a'
“And catch'd a thief;'
But ere he wists he gets a fa'
Attour a sheaf.
37
Some flairing wife now tells how sheDid win a kemp most manfully,
By which she nettled twa or three,
And gar'd them gloom:
A flust'ring stroke now she does gi'e,
And cuts her thumb.
38
But nane sae mony braw things saysAs does the chelsea-man, whase phrase
Exceeds them a', and wins the bays;
He shews them scars
Which he in George the Second's days
Got in the wars!
39
For to his colours he was staunch,In time o' battle ne'er did flinch,
But bravely fought in field or trench:
At Fontenoy,
He wi' Duc William fought the French;
The brave old boy!
16
40
Sometimes he'll speak o' Minden plain,Whar' siccan heaps o' French war' slain,
For he did bravely mak' campaign
Wi' Ferdinan',
And there saw Granby glory gain,
That gallant man!
41
O he has seen great battles win!And mony a Fort and Town ta'en in,
And aft he'll tell, if he begin,
How Prussia's King
Did gar the Austrians scud and rin
Like ony thing.
42
“But now,” says he “sic fightin's rare,“Your Officers themsells can spare,
“Your K**p**l naething did but flare,
The H---s an' a' :
“Wi' Wolfe and Hawk the'll ne'er compare,
“Awa' awa!
17
43
“But yet,” he owns “we've some that's brave,“Auld Rodney bauldly did behave;
“He didnae loiter like the lave,
“But fought outright,
“Till a' his faes war' fain to save
“Themsells by flight!
44
“And there,” says he, “is Elliot too,“Wha gar'd the Spanyard sadly rue
“That e'er he came wi' sic ado
“To tak' his Fort;
“He sent him fire and flames enow;
“It bred braw sport!”
45
O weel sic tales they like to hear!And lend to him an itching ear;
And whiles about the King they'll spear,
Or yet the Queen;
“Gin e'er he saw them, and how near
“To them he's been?”
46
“And whether he was e'er amang“The nigres wild? or e'er got wrang
“Frae bloody Turks?” for sair they lang
“To ken ilk ferlie,
And marvel much, nae news does gang
'Bout Popish Charlie?
18
47
But something else does now attractThe gen'ral notice and the crack:
They reckon now how mony a Stack
This year they'll be;
For they suspect they'll be a lack
O' twa or three .
48
Frae this they tell, as how the rentO' sic a room was overstent,
The back-ga'en tenant fell a-hint,
And coudnae stand;
So he to pigs and whistles went,
And left the land.
49
And how anither man they sawDid slip a fit and get a fa',
And after him a third did draw
To the sam' side;
But soon tint heart and ran awa,
And wadnae bide.
19
50
Again it tak's anither turn;Some drucken wife wi' drouth does burn,
And sair does mutter and does mourn
For good sma' beer;
The lave advise her to the Burne,
That caller chear.
51
To this at last she's fain to rin,But louting down, does tumble in,
By which she gets a good wet skin;
They, jeering, say,
“She'll no be on sae dry a pin
“Again this day?”
52
Some wife whase rig now lingering stands,On her gudeman lays her commands
To gie her help,—He understands,
But says wi' speed,
“Gif like your tongue war' your twa hands,
“Nae help you'd need.”
53
Sculdudry next comes on right het;'Bout wanton Lowrie Loupie's gett,
Or Jenny Jounkers, wha upset
Ayont the Cairn,
Whar' she wi' a Misfortune met
And had a Bairn.
20
54
And how some feckless man an's wifeThe tither day had a great strife:
Some lown as sharp set as a knife
Was lurking bye:
The filthy-fallow ran for's life:
“Howt-out,” they cry.
55
At lesser matters now they mint;They tell how Maggy lately tint
Her leathern purse and naething in't;
But how that she
Pretends there was:—But then they hint
She tells a lie.
56
And how the packman Rabie Gray,Beguil'd a wife the tither day;
For he did gar her sweetly pay
For crackit gear,
But ay since syne he's tint the way
For her to spear.
57
Frae this to different ither talkA quick transition they will mak'
O' clavers they ha'e never lack;
“For tongues are free,
“On the har'st rig to gab an' crack
“Whate'er it be.”
21
58
The Embrugh wives them a' exceedFor sad mislear'd ill words indeed!
They never stand to say wi' speed
Some ill-far'd name,
And ban!—but either fear or dread,
O shame! O shame!
59
Sometimes twa havrel wives cast out,Wi' tongues sae gleg might clip a clout,
Wi' which they mak' a mighty rout:
But yet—whase wyte?
They're wise that wits.—But sair they lout,
And sair they flyte!
60
They bitterly cast up whase kinMaist feckless are.—And ilka sin,
They e'er cud do, is now brought in,
To the dispute:
The bansters redd them “cease their din,”
But they'll no do't.
61
At length whan they hae wreck'd their wrathWi' sad ill-words; till out o' breath
They stop at last, but still look laith
The threap to yield,
Tho' ilka ane laughs at them baith
Throughout the field.
22
62
This wicked flyte being laid at last,Some rig now strives for to get past
The ithers; and wi' flareing haste
To shew its strength;
This sets the lave a wurking fast;
They kemp at length.
63
'Gainst this the master is set sair,And vows bedeen, that he will share
His staff amang them; and no spare
Sic daft fool-folk.
Whan-a' be they but kemp the mair,—
He does but joke.
64
A windy Taylor leads the van,A clean-hough'd nimble little man:
And sair this nettles Wabster Tam,
And gars him girn;
He vows he'll ne'er rest till he can
Wind him a pirn.
65
The blasty Smith does brook it illThat he maun stand sae study still,
For sair it is against his will
To lose the strife,
And a' for fault o' pith and skill
O's glaikit wife.
23
66
Yet her tongue clinks thro' a' the field:She sair misca's the supple chield,
And ay casts-up whate'er's been steal'd
By Prick-the-louse,
But yet, for a' that, he'll no yield,
But gabs fu' crouse.
67
He says “her manners need a patch,(“For this her tongue is an ill swatch,)
“Her borders ne'er with his will match;
And then he jeers,
That he cud mak' as quick dispatch
Wi' his auld sheers.
68
Auld Tamie Speals, the Cowan-wright,Now strives 'gainst him with a' his might,
But he is doung, clean out o' sight
“His edge is gane,”
The Taylor jeering bids him hight,
To 'grinding stane.
69
Then he sic measures does display;And skreeds sic blads o' corn away,
That he had fairly gain'd the day,
But that a Sutor,
Most manfully about does lay;
A tough auld f---t---r.
24
70
He strives as't had been for his last,And a' his airs about does cast,
That now he had him surely past
As clean's a lingle;
The Taylor now clips lang and fast;—
He's in a pingle.
71
Till now the master does stand still,And lets them tak' o' wark their will,
But now they shear sae very ill,
Sae foul and lang;
The Bansters too ha'e tint their mill ,
And a' gaes wrang.
72
The Master dounae langer bearTo see sae high and rough a shear,
But cries with haste, “Come, lads, forbear,
“This kemp let be;
“To let you wurk this way, I fear
“You'd ruin me.”
25
73
The Taylor first does tak' the hint,For he's a remnant fa'n ahint
The Sutor now his ends maunt stint,
Syne dight his cheeks,
For a' this foul wark cam' by dint
O' his lang steeks.
74
They're a' right glad the kemp is done:For they're forfoughten ilka ane:
At which the master mak's nae mane,
But speaks o' scaith;
The Bansters, too, are out o' tune,
And maun hae breath.
75
For they've been right sair haden to,And kept their place wi' great ado;
Now kempen fowk they dinnae lo'e,
They wurk sae stark,
“For naething does,” as they say now,
“Like eident wark.”
76
They a' declare the vi'ttal's good,As by their hands they've understood;
It shou'd bleed weel, and mak' prime food
Frae 'neath the flails;
The strae's sae hard 't'as brought the blood
Frae 'bout their nails.
26
77
Auld William says, (that canny man,The same that wont to thresh the barn,)
“In trouth a-tweel they're sair to blame
“That guide corn ill;
“Nae gude I e'er kent come o' them
“Gude fude that spill.
78
“To shear sae foul is ill to bruik,“For better corn ne'er cam' o'er huik,
“Ise warrant the'yll be in ilka stook
“Four pecks an' mair.”
Syne he does to the pickle look,—
“'Tis wond'rous fair!”
79
Then does auld Highland Malcom say,That “they shud also mind the strae,
“To cut him laigh, for he'd be wae
“To waste good fothers,
For nowts and horse their foods maun ha'e
“As weel as ithers.”
80
But raiking clouds now gather fast;And a' the lift does soon o'er-cast,
Some ane now cries “We'll ha'e a blast,
“The skies do lour;”
Anither says “It winnae last,—
“A flyin' shour.”
27
81
Mair scouthry like it still does look,At length comes on in mochy rook,
The Embrugh wives rin to a stook;
It were nae fau't;
But Highlanders ne'er mind a douk,
“For they're nae sawt .”
82
Say they, “What needs we be afraid?“For 'tis a blout will soon be laid,
“And we may hap us in our plaid,
“Till it blaws o'er,
“'Tis pity for to break our bread
“For a sma' show'r.”
83
But now it rains sae very fast,They're a' oblig'd to rin at last,
Their claes on hastily they cast,
And aff they scour,
For now it turns an eident blast,
An even-down pour!
84
The cottars a' rin to their hames,(For them there needs to mak' nae manes;)
The Embrugh tribe scarce crawl their lanes!
Sae sair they're droukit:
For wet's their claes, and cauld's their banes;
They're sadly doukit!
28
85
Quo' they, “we're murder'd clean-aff-hand,”(As in the kitchen now they stand,)
“For sic a blast we never fand!
“And O!” quo they,
“We're sadly skaith'd, and sair we're wrang'd
“This rainy day!”
86
They sair bemane some paitlich gown,(Some yellow dippet stain'd wi' brown,)
Which they brought claith-like frae the town;
But now, a seat
By th' ingle-side, they clank them down,
For they're ne'er blate.
87
And now it is nae very langTill a' the Trout-shows , in a bang,
Do come, and to the barn they thrang,
For that's their hame;
Into the Ha' they never gang,
For they think shame.
29
88
But straught into the barn they hie,And hang their claes to dreep and dry,
Syne sit them down a sang to try,
To pass the time;
Up springs the pipes, and a' do vie
Wi' them to chime.
89
Now dances Niel wi' little Nell,And comely Kate with hur nanesell;
But Donald Dow bears aff the bell
Wi' Flora fair;
In sprightly dancing they excel
Beyond compare.
90
Thus do they pass the time away,Even every night or rainy day;
Cold shiv'ring blasts do not dismay
The Celtic race;
Their native vigour they display
In ev'ry place.
91
But now, whileas the show'r does last,'Tis no thought proper they shud fast;
The Scogie lass does rin wi' haste
And bring the kale,
On which they dine and mak' repast,
Or baps and ale.
30
92
Nae sooner is the dinner o'er,Than Highland Malcolm gangs to glour,
And see the weather, gin the shower
Be blawn awa':
Sae soon's the sky looks nae mair sour,
He tells them a'.
93
They ask now gin the master please,To let them gang and shear the pease;
For they are laith to lose their fees
By broken days;
They're glad, whan he permission gies,—
Ta gae their ways.
94
But sair it grieves the Embrugh breed,That they maun troop wi' ficcan speed,
They cry, wi' haste, “What is the need
“To shear ava?
“It will be soon enough indeed
“This hour or twa.”
95
The Highlanders ne'er mind their din,But fast a-field awa' do rin,
And there they straughtway do begin
To wurk their wa's:
The Towns-fowk drangle far ahin'
By ane's and twa's.
31
96
At length they are a' gotten out,And syne they wurk anither bout;
But as they ettle for to lout
The pease to shear,
The wives fill weel their laps,—nae doubt,—
Ye neednae spear.
97
Frae this it isnae very langTill they do lilt some canty sang,
Sic as, Pease Strae, or Jenny Dang
The Weaver, braw,
The Taylor thro' the bed did gang,
Thumble an' a'.
98
The Embrugh lass fu' loud does cry,Gin ony will Broom Besonis buy;
The Grey Breeks next, and then she'll try
The Sodger Laddie,
'Tis her delight: then, O! to lie
In's Highlan' Plaidie.
98
The Highland Lasses raise the songIn music wild, and sweet, and strong:
All join in chorus, as along
The subject strays.
The hills and dales resounding long
The cheerful lays.
32
100
At length the sun does wear down low,Which a' the field fu' weel does know,
The Embrugh wives cry, “Let us go
“And quit our wark;
“'Tis after six, and mirk does grow;
“'Twill soon be dark.
101
To this the master gi'es nae heed,But redds them, “mind their wark” indeed:
Quo' they, “Wha deel can shear wi' speed
“That hasnae light?
“Come light the candles! for there's need
“O' them this night.”
102
But yet, for a' their clamour, stillThey are kept sair against their will:
They ever and anon stand still,
And yamour sair;
“We're sure we do our day fulfil,
“And meikle mair.
103
“To keep's sae late is a great wrang,“Whan now the day's sae very lang;”
But they might as weel sing a sang
With a' their fikes.
The master lets his shearers gang,—
Just whan he likes.
33
104
But glad are they whan he does say,“Now fill your rapes and get away,
“This shall be held nae broken day,”
“Tchoukin tchoukin !
“Gaghé! gaghé ! the clans now cry,
O tchoukin brochin :
105
The bedding time does now beginWhan ilka ane does wale their kin,
And for their bed awa' do rin
To get some strae.
And here there is nae little din
Till it they ha'e.
106
This being had, the blankets nextThey seek wi' haste, and share betwixt
Themsells in manner as is fixt,
By usage lang.
Now, tho' they're a' together mixt,
There's naething wrang.
34
107
But still the dorty Embrugh crew,Declare they've got o' claes too few,
O' blankets they ha'e not enow;
“A pair a-piece
They a' shud hae, 'twill hardly do,
“For fowk's no beace.”
108
And now on this their just demandThey are determin'd for to stand,
And ere they flinch they will aff-hand
E'en gae their ways;
For never was there yet a land
But fowk got claes!
109
The master now does carenae be,Tho' he were redd o' twa or three,
So, unexpectedly, does he
Gi'e his consent
To let them gang, and wages gi'e;—
But they repent.
110
Quo' they, “The night is now grown dark,“And well enough we like your wark,
“But O! its hard that in our sark
“We use sic cleading,
“For we're no us'd to siccan stark
“And naked bedding.”
35
111
And syne some sleekit-gabbit wifeDeclares, “she never liket strife;
“For she was ay for a quiet life.
'Tis but ae night,
“We'll e'en stay, (may-be get the rife,)
“Till 'tis day-light.”
112
Some wally-dragles pay for a',Wha little dreamt o' this ava,
For they wi' scorn are set awa'
To their great shame;
The byeword says “Ill bairns are a'
“Best heard at hame.”
113
Now whan they a' to bed are gane,Auld Seonet comes in sark a-lane,
Beseeching for a dram o' gin,
Or what you please:
For Duncan has a sair wame ta'en
Wi' eating pease.
114
At length they a' sleep very sound,In slumber sweet and eke profound,
In idle dreams they ne'er abound
That hae sair wark,
Yet ilka morn are chearfu' found
As ony lark.
36
115
Now whan the day breaks thro' the skyThey're rais'd again wi' hasty cry,
The master calls, “Why do ye lye?
“The sun does shine?
“Come, get up fast, and shearing try,
“The weather's fine.”
116
Yet they get up but very slow,For now some lubber cries, “Oh no!
“Lets e'en lye still, for now to go
“I wad be wae;”
Then down he slinks, and hides him low
Amang the strae.
117
Yet they are a' got up at last,Altho' it isnae very fast,
Their claes most leisurely they cast
About their shouthers,
The master calls “Mak' haste, mak' haste,!
“Ye lazy louthers.”
118
Their sickles now they straughtway tak',And gae their wa's to the field back;
Yet commonly there is some lack;
Some Embrugh quean
Is sickly grown, and dounae mak—
A-field again.
37
119
Whan a' the week is past and gane,It joy affords to ilka ane;
Weel pleas'd are they, and are right fain
Wi' mirth and glee;
Nor rich nor poor e'er mak' a mane
To pouch their fee.
120
They're set in orderly array;And ane by ane now get their pay,
And mony a blessing now they say,
For they are glad,
Their very weans around them play
As they were mad.
121
The highlanders now count their gain:The skillin sassenach makes them fain,
Syne fleetch the master no to hain,
(For weel they've shorn,)
But gi'e a penny to ilk' ane
The skillin khorun .
38
122
The Embrugh tribe do ay insist,That they shud get their wages first;
For now they ken of ither grist
Into their mill:
Gaen hame there is nae pease-field mist
But which they spill.
123
Frae this the corns do faster fill,And Har'st next week is thranger still;
The shearers now come not-a will,
But maun be sought,
And now they a' exert their skill
To be dear bought.
124
For they relate what wages theyDo gi'e at Embrugh Port ilk day ,
And how there was a great affray;
Some master-man
Was soundly swing'd, and then, they say,
He fled and ran!
39
125
Wi' that some Embrugh wife does tell,How a' the hobble-shew befell;
For she was there, and saw't hersell:
She heard his offer;
And how the Chairmen on him fell,
For his sma' proffer.
126
And now anither tells bedeen,(That went into the town yestreen,)
How siccan wages ne'er were seen
As gangs this day;
For masters far and near hae been
At port, they say.
127
Says she, (and to the master looks,)“What think ye they were gien for hooks ?
“As sure's I stand amang the stooks,
“A shillin's gaen!”
The master ill the story brooks,
But answers nane.
128
Then she does tell how mony came,And how they a' did bid the same;
And weel her story she does frame,
For now she tells,
There were sae mony, some thought shame,
And hid themsells!
40
129
Nae sooner does her story end,Than boist'rous winds mayhap portend
That the ripe-corn will hardly fend,
But shaken be,
Weel may the shearers now pretend
To height their fee!
130
Now murmurs gang frae side to side;“For our sma' wage, O wha wad bide,
“For scabbit aughtpence! woe betide
“That we shu'd shear;
“And then to hae sair wark beside!
“We're o'er lang here.”
131
And now ilk ane some fau't does find—The parridge are-nae to their mind:
The ale is sour, and ill o' kind:
The blankets too
Are riven, or ill-together join'd:
They'll naething do!
132
The stout-anes now a' dounae bear,Wi' silly feckless anes to shear,
But maun hae their nain-folk, that's clear;
And they'll no part,
Or they will stay nae langer here,
But will depart!
41
133
The master hardly can restrainTheir thrawart humour and cross-grain,
Which breeds him nae sma' toil and pain,
And gars him chide;
He almost wishes for some rain
To lay their pride.
134
The Highland clans are rous'd at last,For stormy growls the howling blast,
To Dun-eudain they hie with haste
The next port-day,
In hopes some better chear to taste,
And get mair pay.
135
At lenght the Har'st draws to a close,The stately stooks stand thick in rows,
And now the honest farmer knows
What crop he'll ha'e,
When 'tis a' in, he bounty shows,
And feast does gie.
42
136
For now the Maiden has been win,And Winter is at last brought in;
And syne they dance and had the Kirn
In Farmer's Ha',
Whare mirth and joy does now begin
To gladden a'.
137
For there baith man, and wife, and wean,Are stegh'd while they dou' stand their lane,
For a' the langboard now does grane
Wi' swacks o' kale!
And mony a dainty rough fat bane,
And reaming ale!
138
Auld William sits at the board-head,And says the Grace wi' grace indeed!
To which they a' tak' special heed,
Till he does close;
Syne to they fa' wi' might and speed
Keen to the brose.
43
139
Auld John the stalwart Chelsea-man,(whase now ta'en in to redd the barn,)
Sits here and drives about the cann
Weel fill'd wi' stout;
He drinks, “The King—him prosper lang!”
Syne toots it out.
140
To turn the timmer they're no sweer,And mony a tale they'll tell or spear,
Or reckon up what time fernyear
The Kirn was held,
And how the mickle ox or steer,
That time was fell'd.
141
Frae this they speak o' Har'sts that's gane,And cast them a' up ane by ane,
And how they dree'd baith skaith and pain
In Aughty-twa,
Whan they could hardly stan' their lane
For frost and snaw!
142
O that year was a year forlorn!Lang was the Har'st and little corn!
And, sad mischance! the Maid was shorn
After sunset !
As rank a witch as e'er was born,
They'll ne'er forget!
44
143
But now they throw aside a' care,And on sair-wark they think nae mair,
But tak' wi' joy a hearty share
Of ilka thing,
'Till they as blythe and happy are
As ony king.
THE END.
A Gaelic phrase, which signifies, “Make haste make haste!” It is sometimes pronounced like the French word courez, and has frequently the same import, viz. “run, run.”
'Tis spelt above, from the ear only, as are any other gaelic phrases which follow.
The gallant Admiral of that name, as well as his brother, was for long no favourite with the populace.
Trout Show signifies, in Gallic, “come here.” 'Tis a common, tho' absurd appellation for Highlanders; probably from being in general the only Erse understood by the Lowlanders.
“Come away to supper!” which is always distributed in porridge (brochin) to the shearers, immediately on coming home from the field.
Skillin Khorun “hook-penny,” which each shearer is in use to ask and receive weekly over and above their pay.
The West-port of Edinburgh, or rather the Grass market adjoining, is the place where reapers are hired every day during Harvest. Abundance of them are to be hired there, particularly on Mondays, when there are sometimes from two to three thousand at once.
45
THE FARMER's HA':
A POEM.
47
Thus jocund fleets with them the winter's night.
Thomson.
SUBJECT OF THE FARMER's HA'
Convening of the Servants in the evening, Harvest having been previously finished. The various operations going on. The Auld Gudewife; her thrifty superintendance. The Taylor. The Dog and Cat. The Song and Tales. The Chapman. The Gauger. The Beggars. The return of John from the Smithy. His news. Wars and Weddings. The Gudeman appears. Silence ensues. He gives his orders about meating the Horse and next day's work. Then comes the Supper; merry chatting after it. Lastly, bed-time, and rising in the morning.
1
In winter nights, whae'er has seenThe farmer's canty Ha' convene,
Finds a' thing there to please his een,
And heart enamour,
Nor langs to see the town, I ween,
That houff o' clamour.
2
Whan stately stacks are tightly theekit,And the wide style is fairly steekit,
Nae birkie, sure, save he war streekit
For his lang hame,
But wad gie mair for ae short week o't
Than I can name.
3
The lasses ay the glowming hail,For syne the lads come frae the flail,
Or else frae haddin' the plough-tail,
That halesome wark;
Disease about they dinna trail,
Like city spark.
48
4
They a' drive to the ingle cheek,Regardless of a flan o' reek,
And weil their meikle fingers beek,
To gi'e them tune,
Syne sutors alson nimbly streek,
To mend their shoon.
5
They pow and rax the lingel tails,Into their brogs they ca' the nails,
Wi' hammers now, instead o' flails,
They mak' great rackets,
And set about their heels wi' rails
O' clinkin' tackets.
6
And ay till this mis-thriven age,The gudeman here sat like a sage;
Wi' mill in hand, and wise adage,
He spent the night:
But now he sits in chamber's cage,
A pridefu' wight.
7
The lasses wi' their unshod heels,Are sittin' at their spinnin'-wheels,
And weel ilk blythsome kemper dreels,
And bows like wand;
The auld gudewife the pirney reels
Wi' tenty hand.
49
8
The carlin, ay for spinnin' bent,Tells them right aft, they've fa'en ahent,
And that the day is e'en far spent;
Reminds ilk hussey,
And crys, “Ye'll no mak out your stent,
“Save ye be busy.”
9
Tib braks, wi' haste, her foot-broad latch;Meg lights the crusy wi' a match,
Auld luckie bids her mak' dispatch,
And girdle heat,
For she maun yet put out a batch
O' bear and ait.
10
There's less wark for the girdle now,Nor was in days of yore, I trow,
Gude scoudered bannocks has nae gou'
To husbandmen;
For o'en wheat-bread dits ilka mou'
That stays the ben'.
11
The young gudewife and bairnies a'Right seenil now look near the ha',
For fear their underlins sud shaw
A cauld neglect:
But pride was never kent to draw
Luve or respect.
50
12
The taylor lad, lang fam'd for fleas,Sits here and mak's and mends the claes;
And vow the swankies like to teaze
Him wi' their mocks,
The women cry, “He's ill to please,”
And crack their jokes.
13
But he's a slee and cunnin' loun,And taunts again ilk jeerin' clown;
For, tho' no bred in borrows town,
He's wondrous gabby,
And fouth o' wit comes frae his crown,
Tho' he be shabby.
14
Auld farrant tales he skreeds awa',And ca's their lear but clippings a',
And bids them gang to Thimble-ha',
Wi' needle speed,
And there learn wit without a flaw,
Frae the board head.
15
Auld luckie says they're in a creel,And redds them up, I trow, fu' weel,
Cries, “Lasses, occupy your wheel,
“And strait the pin;”
And bids the taylor haste and dreel
Wi' little din.
51
16
Quo' she, “Ye've meikle need to sew;“O! times are sairly alter'd now!
“For two-pence was the wage, I trow,
“To ony Scot;
“But now-a-days ye crook your mou',
“To seek a groat.”
17
The colly dog lies i' the nook,The place whilk auld brown birkie took,
And aft toward the door does look,
Wi' aspect crouse;
For unco fouk he cannae brook
Within the house.
18
Here bawdrins sits, and cocks her head,And smooths her coat o' nature's weed,
Aud purrs contentedly indeed,
And looks fu' lang,
To see gin fowk be takin' heed
To her braw sang.
19
The auld gudewife, wha kens her best,Behads her wash her face and breast:
Syne honest luckie does protest
That rain we'll hae,
Or on-ding o' some kind at least,
Afore't be day.
52
20
To her remarks lists ilka lass,And what she says aft comes to pass,
Altho' she hasnae chymic mass
To weigh the air;
For pussy's grannum's weather-glass
I do declare.
21
Nae sooner has auld luckie done,Nor Meg cries she'll wad baith her shoon,
That we fall hae weet very soon,
And weather rough;
For she saw round about the moon
A miekle brough.
22
Aft times the canty lilt gaes round,And ilka face wi' mirth is crown'd,
And whiles they sing in safter faster sound,
Sic as the Swain
Of Yarrow, or, some Lover drown'd
In ruthless main.
23
O! royal tales gae brawly on,And feats of fowk that's dead and gone;
The windy piper sounds his drone,
As weel he can;
And aft they speak o' their Mess John,
That haly man.
53
24
They banish hence a' care and dool,For they were bred at mirthfu' school;
They count how lang it is to Yule,
Wi' pleasure vast;
And tell wha' sat the cutty stool
On Sabbath last.
25
The chapman lad, wi' gab sae free,Comes in and mixes i' the glee,
After he's trampet out the e'e
O' mony dub,
And gotten frae the blast to dree
A hearty drub.
26
He says he did Auld Reekie ca',To bring them things to mak' them braw,
And got them free o' crack and flaw,
And patterns rare:
The proverb says, “Fowls far awa'
“Hae feathers fair.”
27
He tells them he's weel sorted nowOf a' thing gude, and cheap, and new;
His sleekit speeches pass for true
With ane and a';
The pedlars ken fu' weel the cue
O' Farmer's Ha'.
54
28
He hads his trinkets to the light,And speirs what they're to buy the-night;
Syne a' the lasses loup bawk height
Wi' perfect joy,
'Cause lads for them coff broach sae bright,
Or shining toy.
29
They finger at the trantlims lang,But whan they're bargaining right thrang,
In does the gauger quickly bang,
Wi' visage awfu',
In quest o' some forbidden fang,
Or goods unlawfu'.
30
He says, his information's close,And bids them therefore no be cross,
Or else they'll find it to their loss,
And skaith nae sma',
For he'll their doors to flinders toss,
And stand the law.
31
Ben the gudeman comes wi' a spang,And says, “Ye're short to be sae lang,
“But think-nae, billy, ye're to dwang
“Fowk wi' a sham,
“For save ye shaw your warrant, gang
“The gate ye cam'.”
55
32
Wi' birr he bangs his paper out,And thinks his point ayont a doubt,
To ilka hirn he tak's his rout,
(For he's nae fae)
An gangs just stavering about
In quest o' prey.
33
After he's rais'd a needless reek,Syne he begins to grow mair meek,
For he meets wi' a great begeek
Frae empty binks,
Sae wi' his finger in his cheek,
Awa' he slinks.
34
The gauger's scarcely frae the doorWhan beggars they come in gelore,
Wi' wallops flappin' in great store,
Rais'd up in cairns,
And birns baith a-hint and 'fore
O' greetin' bairns.
35
The auld anes raise a whinging tone,And sigh and sob, and cry, Ohon!
Syne blessings come wi' mony drone,
Frae man and wife,
Wha to their childer seek a scone,
To succour life.
56
36
Quo' they, “We're trachled unco sair,“We've gane twall mile o' yerd and mair,
“The gait was ill, our feet war' bare,
“The night is weety,
“And gin ye quarters hae to spare,
“O shaw your pity!”
37
The lasses yamour frae their wheel,“There's mony a sturdy gangril chiel
“That might be winnin' meat fu' weel,
“And claes an' a',
“Ye're just fit to mak' muck o' meal,
“Sae swith awa'.”
38
Auld luckie cries; “Ye're o'er íll set,“As ye'd hae measure, ye sud met;
“Ye ken-nae what may be your fate
“In after days,
“The Black cow hasnae trampet yet
“Upo' your taes.
39
“Gi'e o'er your daft and taunting play,“For you and they are baith ae clay:
“Rob tak' them to the barn, I say,
“And gi'e them strae,
“There let them rest, till it be day,
“And syne they'll gae.”
57
40
Whan John, the head plough-man, comes in,They mak' a loud and joyfu' din,
For ilka heart is rais'd a pin,
And mair, I trow,
And in a trice they round him rin,
To get what's new.
41
O wat ye whare the lad has been,That they're sae happy ilka ane?
Nae far aff journey, as I ween,
For ploy sae rare;
But, reader, ye shall ken bedeen
The hale affair.
42
As he was wurking lang and strang,And fallowin' wi' pith and bang,
The couter o' the pleugh gaed wrang,
(A' thing maun wear,)
Syne he did to the smithy gang,
To mend the gear.
43
This is the houff of ane and a',And mony ane does even draw,
Altho' they hae but errand sma'
To tak' them there;
Some gang to hear, and some to shaw
Their rustic lear.
58
44
They tell news here of a kin kind,In pithy words as e'er were coin'd,
Sic as beseem the untaught mind,
And nature plain,
Sic as the heart will sooner find,
Than speeches vain.
45
O' John's return spak' ilka nook,They aft gaed to the door to look;
For they were on the tenter-hook,
For smithy-chat;
And now, I trow, like printed book,
He gi'es them that.
46
He thus begins, “What's this ava',“There's sad wark in America,
“For fowk there dinnae keep the law,
“And wad be free,
“Nor o' King George stand ony awe,
“Nor taxes gi'e.
47
“They say we'ere listing heaps indeed,“And shipping them awa' wi' speed,
“And vow I fear there's mickle need;
“By what I hear,
‘The rebels hae made unco’ head,
“Within this year.
59
48
“The smith thinks they hae play'd a trick,“Sin' we o' time did miss the nick,
“But now, let us our winning lick,
“(He cry'd in pet,)
“And said, Fowk sud the iron strike,
“Ay whan it's het.
49
“I wish our fowk soon hame again,“And no to dander 'yont the main,
“Because I dread the king o' Spain,
“And wily France,
“Will seek the thing that's no their ain,
“And lead's a dance.
50
“I wat o' cunning they're no lame,“And they wad think it a braw scheme,
“Whan our men's far awa' frae hame,
“Mischief to ettle;
“At ither times we'd mak' them tame,
“And cool their mettle.
51
“But I'll hae done wi' foreign lands,“And mind the thing that's nearer hand's;
“On Friday next a bridal stands
“At the Kirk-town,
“The bridegroom gae me great commands
“To bring ye down.“
60
52
Quo' Meg and Kate, “We'll keep the town,“We're laying up to buy a gown.”
“Howt fy! (quo' Jock, that blythsome lown)
“O binna thrawin,
“For Rob and I sall dossy down
“Your dinner-lawin.
53
“As bairns blythe wha get the play,“I trow we'll hae a merry day,
“And I'm to be the Alikay
“At Kirk-town ha':
“Mind, Sirs, put on your best array,
“And let's be braw.
54
“O, lasses! ye's get favours fair,“And sweethearts may be ye'll get there,
“We'll hae a day o' dancing rare,
“Just in a trice;
“But mind, your soals ye mannae spare,
“Nor yet be nice.
55
“Gin ye wad thole to hear a friend,“Tak' tent, and no wi' strunts offend,
“I've seen queans dink, and neatly prin'd,
“Frae tap to middle,
“Looking just like the far aff end
“Of an auld fiddle.”
61
56
Wow but they a' tak' wond'rous tent,Till Johnnie's budget is quite spent,
And syne baith ane and a' are bent,
To tell their minds;
Then comes the various comment,
Fae honest hinds.
57
Nature, unhurt by thrawart man,And nae margullied by chicane,
I trow, fu' doughtily she can
Shaw reason's power:
Sure fause philosophy began
In hapless hour.
58
Now the gudeman comes ben the house,Whilk o' their gabbin' mak's a truce,
The lads and lasses a' grow douse,
And spare their din;
For true's the tale, “Weel kens the mouse
“When pussie's in!”
59
And syne he does his orders gie,And says, “Ye'll busy need to be,
“The fallowin' yon field, I see,
“Tak's unco force:
“But gae awa' e' now (quo' he)
“And meat the horse.'
62
60
While I descrive this happy spot,The supper mannae be forgot,
Now lasses round the ingle trot,
To mak' the brose,
And swankies they link aff the pot,
To hain their joes.
61
The dishes set on unspread table,To answer nature's wants are able,
'Round caps and plates, the cutties sable
Are flung ding dang:
The lads and lasses to enable
Their wames to pang.
62
They a' thrang round the lang board now,Whare there is meat for ilka mou',
Hiremen their hats and bonnets pu'
Upo' their face,
But gentle folks think shame to bow,
Or say a grace.
63
O here are joys uninterrup'Far hence is pleasure's gangrene cup;
Clear-blooded health tends ilka sup
O' simple diet;
But flees awa' frae keeping't up,
And midnight riot.
63
64
Whan supper's o'er, and thanks are gi'en,Mirth dances round wi' canty mien,
In daffin', and in gabbin' keen,
An hour they pass;
And ilka lad, wi' pawky een,
Looks at his lass.
65
But Morpheus' begins to chap,And bids them a' gae tak' a nap;
And whan they've sleepit like a tap,
They rise to wark,
Like Phoebus out o' Thetis' lap,
As blyth's a lark.
THE END.
64
Epitaph on B---s the Poet.
Here lies Rob B---s; his muse now mourns,
And sair bemanes her bard, Sir,
Wha in the Spence had wit and sense,
But nane when a grim Gauger:
And sair bemanes her bard, Sir,
Wha in the Spence had wit and sense,
But nane when a grim Gauger:
By this auld Nick play'd him a trick,
For a' the names he ca'd him,
Plung'd in Excise, ne'er mair to rise,
“Come jink me now,” quo' Satan.
For a' the names he ca'd him,
Plung'd in Excise, ne'er mair to rise,
“Come jink me now,” quo' Satan.
| The har'st rig, and the farmer's ha' | |