The Dominie Depos'd or Some Reflections On his Intrigue with a young Lass, and what happened thereupon. Intermix'd with Advice to all Precentors, and Dominies [by William Forbes] |
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| ELEGY ON MAGGY-JOHNSTON,
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 | The Dominie Depos'd |  |
ELEGY ON MAGGY-JOHNSTON,
Who died Anno 1711.
Auld Reeky mourn in sable hue,
Let fouth o' tears dreep like May dew,
To bra tippony bid adieu,
Which we wi' greed,
Bended as fast as she cou'd brew,
But now she's dead.
Let fouth o' tears dreep like May dew,
To bra tippony bid adieu,
Which we wi' greed,
Bended as fast as she cou'd brew,
But now she's dead.
22
To tell the truth now, Maggy dang,
O' customers she had a bang;
For lairds an' sutors a' did thrang,
To drink bedeen;
The barn an' yard was aft sae thrang,
We took the green,
O' customers she had a bang;
For lairds an' sutors a' did thrang,
To drink bedeen;
The barn an' yard was aft sae thrang,
We took the green,
And there by dizens we lay down,
Syne sweetly ca'd the healths a-roun,
To bonny lasses, black or brown,
As we loo'd best;
In bumpers we dull cares did drown,
An' took our rest.
Syne sweetly ca'd the healths a-roun,
To bonny lasses, black or brown,
As we loo'd best;
In bumpers we dull cares did drown,
An' took our rest.
When in our pouch we found some clinks,
An' took a turn o'er Bruntsfield Links,
Aften in Maggy's, at Hy-jinks,
We guzzl'd scuds,
Till we could scarce, wi' hale-out drinks,
Cast aff our duds.
An' took a turn o'er Bruntsfield Links,
Aften in Maggy's, at Hy-jinks,
We guzzl'd scuds,
Till we could scarce, wi' hale-out drinks,
Cast aff our duds.
We drank, an' drew, an' fill'd again,
O wow! but we were blyth an' fain;
When ony had their count mistane,
O it was nice,
To hear us a' cry pick your bane,
An' spell your dice.
O wow! but we were blyth an' fain;
When ony had their count mistane,
O it was nice,
To hear us a' cry pick your bane,
An' spell your dice.
Fou close we us'd to drink an' rant,
Until we did baith glowr and gaunt,
An' pish, an' spew, an' yesk, an' maunt,
Right swash I trow,
Than aff auld stories we did chant,
Whan we were fu'.
Until we did baith glowr and gaunt,
An' pish, an' spew, an' yesk, an' maunt,
Right swash I trow,
Than aff auld stories we did chant,
Whan we were fu'.
23
Whan we were wearied at the gouff,
Then Maggy Johnston's was our houff,
Now a' our gamesters may sit douff,
Wi' hearts like lead,
Death wi' his rung reach'd her a youff,
An' sae she's dead.
Then Maggy Johnston's was our houff,
Now a' our gamesters may sit douff,
Wi' hearts like lead,
Death wi' his rung reach'd her a youff,
An' sae she's dead.
Maun we be forc'd thy skill to tine,
For which we will right sair repine?
Or hast thou left to bairns o' thine
The pauky knack,
O brewing ale amaist like wine,
That gar'd us crack?
For which we will right sair repine?
Or hast thou left to bairns o' thine
The pauky knack,
O brewing ale amaist like wine,
That gar'd us crack?
Sae brawly did a pease-scone tost,
Biz i' the quaff, and flee the frost,
There we gat fu' wi' little cost,
An' muckle speed;
Now wae worth death, our sport's a' lost,
Since Maggy's dead.
Biz i' the quaff, and flee the frost,
There we gat fu' wi' little cost,
An' muckle speed;
Now wae worth death, our sport's a' lost,
Since Maggy's dead.
Ae summer night I was sae fu',
Amang the riggs I gaed to spew,
Syne down on a green bank I trow,
I took a nap,
An' sought a' night Balillilu,
As sound's a tap.
Amang the riggs I gaed to spew,
Syne down on a green bank I trow,
I took a nap,
An' sought a' night Balillilu,
As sound's a tap.
An' whan the dawn began to glow,
I hirsled up my dizzy pow,
Frae 'mang the corn like worry-kow,
Wi' banes fu' sair,
An' kend nae mair than if a yow,
How I came there.
I hirsled up my dizzy pow,
Frae 'mang the corn like worry-kow,
Wi' banes fu' sair,
An' kend nae mair than if a yow,
How I came there.
24
Some said it was the pith o' broom,
That she stow'd in her masking loom,
Which in our heads rais'd sic a foom,
Or some wild seed,
Which aft the chappin stoup did toom,
But fill'd our head.
That she stow'd in her masking loom,
Which in our heads rais'd sic a foom,
Or some wild seed,
Which aft the chappin stoup did toom,
But fill'd our head.
But now since 'tis sae that we must
Not in the best ale put our trust,
But when we're auld return to dust,
Without remead;
Why should we tak it in disgust,
Since Maggy's dead.
Not in the best ale put our trust,
But when we're auld return to dust,
Without remead;
Why should we tak it in disgust,
Since Maggy's dead.
O' warldly comforts she was rife,
An' liv'd a lang an' hearty life,
Right free o' care, or toil, or strife,
Till she was stale;
An' kend to be a canny wife
At brewing ale.
An' liv'd a lang an' hearty life,
Right free o' care, or toil, or strife,
Till she was stale;
An' kend to be a canny wife
At brewing ale.
Then fareweel Maggy dowse an' fell,
O' brewers a' you bore the bell;
Let a' your gossips yelp an' yell,
An', without fead,
Guess whether ye're in heav'n or hell,
They're sure ye're dead.
O' brewers a' you bore the bell;
Let a' your gossips yelp an' yell,
An', without fead,
Guess whether ye're in heav'n or hell,
They're sure ye're dead.
EPITAPH.
O RARE MAGGY JOHNSTON
FINIS.
| The Dominie Depos'd | |