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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 | The Dominie Depos'd |  |
1
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.
2
THE PREFACE.
If this offend when ye peruse,
Pray Reader let this me excuse,
Mysell I only here accuse,
Who am the cause,
That e'er ye had this piece of news
To split your jaws.
Pray Reader let this me excuse,
Mysell I only here accuse,
Who am the cause,
That e'er ye had this piece of news
To split your jaws.
For had I right the gully guided,
And wi' a wife mysell provided,
To keep me frae that, wae betide it,
That's kent to a',
I'd staid at hame, or near beside it;
Now that's awa'.
And wi' a wife mysell provided,
To keep me frae that, wae betide it,
That's kent to a',
I'd staid at hame, or near beside it;
Now that's awa'.
Be wiser then, and do what's right,
And mind your business wi' might,
Lest unexpected gloomy night
Shou'd you surround,
An' mingle a' your pleasure bright,
Wi' grief profound.
And mind your business wi' might,
Lest unexpected gloomy night
Shou'd you surround,
An' mingle a' your pleasure bright,
Wi' grief profound.
And, bonny lasses, mind this rhyme,
As true as three and sax mak nine,
If ye commit ye ken what crime,
And turn unweel,
There'll something wamble in your wame
Just like an eel.
As true as three and sax mak nine,
If ye commit ye ken what crime,
And turn unweel,
There'll something wamble in your wame
Just like an eel.
3
I. PART I.
Some Dominies are sae biass'd,
That o'er the dyke themsells they cast,
They drink an' rant, and live sae fast,
This drives them on
To draw a weapon at the last,
That sticks Mess John.
That o'er the dyke themsells they cast,
They drink an' rant, and live sae fast,
This drives them on
To draw a weapon at the last,
That sticks Mess John.
Thus going on, from day to day,
Neglecting still to watch and pray,
And teach the little anes A, B, C,
An' Pater Noster,
Quite ither thoughts our Lettergae
Begins to foster.
Neglecting still to watch and pray,
And teach the little anes A, B, C,
An' Pater Noster,
Quite ither thoughts our Lettergae
Begins to foster.
For, laying by baith fear and shame,
They slyly venture on that game,
All-fours, I think, they call't by name,
Baith auld an' rife,
That in the play Mess John is slain
Wi' his ain knife.
They slyly venture on that game,
All-fours, I think, they call't by name,
Baith auld an' rife,
That in the play Mess John is slain
Wi' his ain knife.
'Tis kend, therefore, I winna strive
My doughty deeds here to descrive,
A lightsome life still did I drive,
Did never itch,
By out an' in abouts to drive,
For to mak rich.
My doughty deeds here to descrive,
A lightsome life still did I drive,
Did never itch,
By out an' in abouts to drive,
For to mak rich.
4
I ne'er laid money up in store,
Into a hole behind the door,
A shilling, penny, less or more,
I did it scatter,
'Tis just, now, I should drink, therefore,
Sma' beer or water.
Into a hole behind the door,
A shilling, penny, less or more,
I did it scatter,
'Tis just, now, I should drink, therefore,
Sma' beer or water.
I never sooner siller got,
But a' my pouches it wou'd plot,
And scorch them sair, it was sae hot;
Then to get clear
Of it, I swill'd it down my throat,
In ale or beer.
But a' my pouches it wou'd plot,
And scorch them sair, it was sae hot;
Then to get clear
Of it, I swill'd it down my throat,
In ale or beer.
Thus, a' my failing was my glass,
An' anes to please a bonny lass,
I, like a silly amorous ass,
Drew forth my gully,
An' thro' an' thro' at the first pass,
Ran Mr. Willy.
An' anes to please a bonny lass,
I, like a silly amorous ass,
Drew forth my gully,
An' thro' an' thro' at the first pass,
Ran Mr. Willy.
Sae for this mad, though merry fit,
I was sair vex'd and forc'd to flit,
They plagu'd me sae wi' pay and sit,
Quo' they, You thief,
How durst you try to steal a bit
Forbidden beef?
I was sair vex'd and forc'd to flit,
They plagu'd me sae wi' pay and sit,
Quo' they, You thief,
How durst you try to steal a bit
Forbidden beef?
O then I humbly plead that vos
Wou'd make it your continual mos,
Wi' hearts sincere an' open os,
You'd often pray,
A tali malo libra nos,
O Domine.
Wou'd make it your continual mos,
Wi' hearts sincere an' open os,
You'd often pray,
A tali malo libra nos,
O Domine.
5
For, hark, I'll tell you what they think,
Since I left handling pen an' ink,
Wae worth that weary soup o' drink
He lik'd sae weel
He drank it a', left not a clink
His throat to swill.
Since I left handling pen an' ink,
Wae worth that weary soup o' drink
He lik'd sae weel
He drank it a', left not a clink
His throat to swill.
He lik'd, still sitting on his doup,
To view the pint or cutty stoup,
And sometimes lasses overcoup
Upo' their keels,
This made the lad at length to loup,
And tak his heels.
To view the pint or cutty stoup,
And sometimes lasses overcoup
Upo' their keels,
This made the lad at length to loup,
And tak his heels.
Then was it not a grand presumption,
To ca' him doctor o' the function?
He dealt too much in barley-unction
For his profession:
He never took a good injunction
Frae kirk or session.
To ca' him doctor o' the function?
He dealt too much in barley-unction
For his profession:
He never took a good injunction
Frae kirk or session.
An' to attend he was not willing,
His school, sae lang's he had a shilling,
But lov'd to be where there was filling
Good punch or ale,
For him to rise was just like killing
Or first to fail.
His school, sae lang's he had a shilling,
But lov'd to be where there was filling
Good punch or ale,
For him to rise was just like killing
Or first to fail.
His fishing-wand, his sneeshing-box,
A fowling-piece, to shoot muir-cocks,
An' hunting hare thro' craigs and rocks,
This was his game,
Still left the young anes, so the fox
Might worry them.
A fowling-piece, to shoot muir-cocks,
An' hunting hare thro' craigs and rocks,
This was his game,
Still left the young anes, so the fox
Might worry them.
6
When he committed all these tricks,
For which he weel deserv'd his licks,
Wi' red-coats he did intermix,
When he foresaw
The punishment the Kirk inflicts
On fowks that fa'.
For which he weel deserv'd his licks,
Wi' red-coats he did intermix,
When he foresaw
The punishment the Kirk inflicts
On fowks that fa'.
Then to his thrift he bade adieu,
When wi' his tail he stopp'd his mou',
He chang'd his coat to red and blue,
An' like a sot
Did the poor Clerk convert into
A Royal Scot.
When wi' his tail he stopp'd his mou',
He chang'd his coat to red and blue,
An' like a sot
Did the poor Clerk convert into
A Royal Scot.
An' now fowks use me at their wills,
My name is blawn out o'er the hills,
At banquets, feasts, a' mouths it fills,
Twixt each, Here'st' thee,
'Tis sore traduc'd at kilns and milns,
And common smithy.
My name is blawn out o'er the hills,
At banquets, feasts, a' mouths it fills,
Twixt each, Here'st' thee,
'Tis sore traduc'd at kilns and milns,
And common smithy.
Then Dominies, I you beseech,
Keep very far from Bacchus' reach,
He drowned a' my cares to preach,
Wi' his ma't-bree,
I've wore sair banes by mony a bleech
O' his tap-tree:
Keep very far from Bacchus' reach,
He drowned a' my cares to preach,
Wi' his ma't-bree,
I've wore sair banes by mony a bleech
O' his tap-tree:
If Venus does possess your mind,
Her anticks ten times warse ye'll find,
For to ill tricks she's sae inclin'd,
For proticks past,
She blew me here before the wind:
Cauld be her cast.
Her anticks ten times warse ye'll find,
For to ill tricks she's sae inclin'd,
For proticks past,
She blew me here before the wind:
Cauld be her cast.
7
Within years less than ha'f a dizen,
She made poor Maggy ly in jizen,
When little Jock brake out o' prison
On gude Yule day,
This of my quiet cut the wisen,
When he wan gae.
She made poor Maggy ly in jizen,
When little Jock brake out o' prison
On gude Yule day,
This of my quiet cut the wisen,
When he wan gae.
Let readers, then, take better heed,
For fear they kiss mair than they read,
In case they wear the sacken-weed
For fornication,
Or leave the priest-craft shot to dead
For procreation.
For fear they kiss mair than they read,
In case they wear the sacken-weed
For fornication,
Or leave the priest-craft shot to dead
For procreation.
The maist o' them, like blind an' lame,
Have nae aversion to the game,
But better 'twere to tak her hame,
Their pot to cook,
And teach his boys to write a theme,
And mind their book.
Have nae aversion to the game,
But better 'twere to tak her hame,
Their pot to cook,
And teach his boys to write a theme,
And mind their book.
Then may they sit at hame, an' please
Themsells wi' gathering in their fees,
While I must face mine enemies,
Or shaw my dock;
There's odds 'twixt handling pens wi' ease
An' a firelock.
Themsells wi' gathering in their fees,
While I must face mine enemies,
Or shaw my dock;
There's odds 'twixt handling pens wi' ease
An' a firelock.
Sae shall they never mount the stool,
Whereon the lasses greet an' howl,
Tho' deil a tear, scarce fair or foul,
Comes o'er their cheeks;
Their mind's not there, 'tis spinning wool,
Or mending breeks.
Whereon the lasses greet an' howl,
Tho' deil a tear, scarce fair or foul,
Comes o'er their cheeks;
Their mind's not there, 'tis spinning wool,
Or mending breeks.
8
The Kirk then pardons no such prots,
They must tell down good five pounds Scots,
Tho' they should pledge their petticoats,
An' gae arse bare;
The least price there is twenty groats,
An' prigging sair.
They must tell down good five pounds Scots,
Tho' they should pledge their petticoats,
An' gae arse bare;
The least price there is twenty groats,
An' prigging sair.
If then the lad does not her wed,
Poor Meg some feigned tears maun shed,
Her minny crooks her mou' and dad,
They fart and fling;
“O wow that e'er I made the bed,”
Then does she sing.
Poor Meg some feigned tears maun shed,
Her minny crooks her mou' and dad,
They fart and fling;
“O wow that e'er I made the bed,”
Then does she sing.
Thus for her Maidenhead she moans,
bewailing what is past;
Her pitcher's dash'd against the stones,
And broken at the last.
bewailing what is past;
Her pitcher's dash'd against the stones,
And broken at the last.
II. PART II.
A' Maid's, therefore, I do bemoan,
Betwixt the rivers Dee and Don,
If anes they get a lick o' yon,
Tho' by the laird,
The toy-mutch maun then gae on,
Nae mair bare hair'd.
Betwixt the rivers Dee and Don,
If anes they get a lick o' yon,
Tho' by the laird,
The toy-mutch maun then gae on,
Nae mair bare hair'd.
Yet wanton Venus, that she bitch,
Does a' our senses sae bewitch,
An' fires our blood wi' sic an itch,
That aftentimes,
There is nae help but to commit
Some ill-far'd crimes.
Does a' our senses sae bewitch,
An' fires our blood wi' sic an itch,
That aftentimes,
There is nae help but to commit
Some ill-far'd crimes.
9
Yet some they are sae very willing,
At ony time they'll tak a shilling,
But he that learnt them first that spelling,
Or Meg or Nell,
Be sure, to him they'll lay an egg in;
This some can tell.
At ony time they'll tak a shilling,
But he that learnt them first that spelling,
Or Meg or Nell,
Be sure, to him they'll lay an egg in;
This some can tell.
Unthinking things! it is their creed,
If some sic things be done wi' speed,
They're safe, 'tis help in time o' need,
Nae after-claps:
Tho' nine months aft brings quick or dead
Into their laps.
If some sic things be done wi' speed,
They're safe, 'tis help in time o' need,
Nae after-claps:
Tho' nine months aft brings quick or dead
Into their laps.
Experience thus makes me to speak,
I anes was hooked wi' the cleek,
I almost had beshit my breek,
When Maggy told,
That, by her saul, not e'en a week
Young Jack wou'd hold.
I anes was hooked wi' the cleek,
I almost had beshit my breek,
When Maggy told,
That, by her saul, not e'en a week
Young Jack wou'd hold.
She was sae stiff she cou'd not lout;
Your pranks, she says, are now found out,
The Kirk an' you maun hae a bout;
Ill mat ye fare,
'Tis a' your ain, ye need na doubt,
Ilk hilt an' hair.
Your pranks, she says, are now found out,
The Kirk an' you maun hae a bout;
Ill mat ye fare,
'Tis a' your ain, ye need na doubt,
Ilk hilt an' hair.
Alas! that e'er I saw your face,
I can nae langer hide the case;
Had I foreseen this sad disgrace,
Nae man nor you
Shou'd e'er hae touch'd my fie a place
Or kiss'd my mou'.
I can nae langer hide the case;
Had I foreseen this sad disgrace,
Nae man nor you
Shou'd e'er hae touch'd my fie a place
Or kiss'd my mou'.
10
O Dominie, you're dispossest,
Ye hae beshit your holy nest,
The warld sees ye hae transgrest;
I'm at my time,
Ye dare nae mair now do your best,
Let gae the rhime.
Ye hae beshit your holy nest,
The warld sees ye hae transgrest;
I'm at my time,
Ye dare nae mair now do your best,
Let gae the rhime.
Ohon! how weel I might hae kent,
When first to you I gae consent,
Wi' me to mak your merriment,
How a' wou'd be:
Alas! that e'er my loom I lent
That day to thee.
When first to you I gae consent,
Wi' me to mak your merriment,
How a' wou'd be:
Alas! that e'er my loom I lent
That day to thee.
Wae to the night I first began
To mix my moggans wi' thee, man;
'Tis needless now to curse or ban,
But deil hae me,
Ye'll pay and sit, for sit ye can,
An' that ye'll see.
To mix my moggans wi' thee, man;
'Tis needless now to curse or ban,
But deil hae me,
Ye'll pay and sit, for sit ye can,
An' that ye'll see.
I heard her as I heard her not,
But time and place had quite forgot,
I guess'd my piece was in the pot;
For I could tell,
It was too short her petticoat,
By haff an ell.
But time and place had quite forgot,
I guess'd my piece was in the pot;
For I could tell,
It was too short her petticoat,
By haff an ell.
Wi' blubber'd cheeks, and watry nose,
Her weary story she did close:
I said the best, and aff I goes
Just like a thief,
An' took a glass to interpose
'Twixt mirth an' grief.
Her weary story she did close:
I said the best, and aff I goes
Just like a thief,
An' took a glass to interpose
'Twixt mirth an' grief.
11
Yet wou'd hae gien my ha'f year's fee,
Had Maggy then been jesting me,
Had tartan-purry, meal an' bree,
Or butt'ry brose,
Been kilting up her petticoats
Aboon her hose.
Had Maggy then been jesting me,
Had tartan-purry, meal an' bree,
Or butt'ry brose,
Been kilting up her petticoats
Aboon her hose.
But time that tries such proticks past,
Brought me out o'er the coals fu' fast;
Poor Maggy took a sudden blast,
An' o'er did tumble,
For something in her wame at last
Began to rumble.
Brought me out o'er the coals fu' fast;
Poor Maggy took a sudden blast,
An' o'er did tumble,
For something in her wame at last
Began to rumble.
Our fowk caud it the windy gravel,
That grips the guts beneath the navel,
But laith she was for to unravel
Their gross mistake,
Weel kend she, that she was in travel
Wi' little Jack.
That grips the guts beneath the navel,
But laith she was for to unravel
Their gross mistake,
Weel kend she, that she was in travel
Wi' little Jack.
But, to put matters out of doubt,
Young John within wou'd fain been out,
An' but an' ben made sic a rout
Wi' hands an' feet,
That she began twa-fald about
The house to creep.
Young John within wou'd fain been out,
An' but an' ben made sic a rout
Wi' hands an' feet,
That she began twa-fald about
The house to creep.
Then dool an' sorrow interveen'd;
For Jack nae langer cou'd be screen'd;
My lass upon her brest she lean'd,
An' gae a skirl;
The canny wives came there conveen'd
A' in a whirl.
For Jack nae langer cou'd be screen'd;
My lass upon her brest she lean'd,
An' gae a skirl;
The canny wives came there conveen'd
A' in a whirl.
12
They wrought together in a croud;
By this time I was under cloud;
Yet bye an' bye I understood,
They made one more,
For Jack he tun'd his pipe, an' loud
Wi' cries did roar.
By this time I was under cloud;
Yet bye an' bye I understood,
They made one more,
For Jack he tun'd his pipe, an' loud
Wi' cries did roar.
Wi' that they blam'd the Session-Clark;
Where is the lown hid in the dark?
For he's the father o' this wark:
Swear to his mither,
He's just as like him as ae lark
Is like anither.
Where is the lown hid in the dark?
For he's the father o' this wark:
Swear to his mither,
He's just as like him as ae lark
Is like anither.
About me then there was a din,
They sought me out thro' thick an' thin,
Wi' deil hae her, an' deil hae him,
He's o'er the dyke;
Our Dominie has now dung in
His arse a pike.
They sought me out thro' thick an' thin,
Wi' deil hae her, an' deil hae him,
He's o'er the dyke;
Our Dominie has now dung in
His arse a pike.
Ye may weel judge I was right sweer,
This uncouth meeting to draw near,
Yet forc'd I was then to appear,
Altho' perplex'd;
But listen how, an' ye shall hear,
The hags me vex'd.
This uncouth meeting to draw near,
Yet forc'd I was then to appear,
Altho' perplex'd;
But listen how, an' ye shall hear,
The hags me vex'd.
The carlings Maggy had so cleuked
Before young Jack was rightly hooked,
They made her twice as little booked;
But to gae on;
O then! how like a fool I looked,
Whan I saw John.
Before young Jack was rightly hooked,
They made her twice as little booked;
But to gae on;
O then! how like a fool I looked,
Whan I saw John.
13
The Cummer then came to me bent,
An' gravely did my Son present;
She bade me kiss him, be content,
Then wish'd me joy;
An' tald it was—what luck had sent,
A waly boy.
An' gravely did my Son present;
She bade me kiss him, be content,
Then wish'd me joy;
An' tald it was—what luck had sent,
A waly boy.
In ilka member, lith an' lim',
Its mouth, its nose, its cheek, its chin,
'Tis a like dady, just like him,
His very self,
Tho' it look'd canker'd, sour an' grim,
Like ony elf.
Its mouth, its nose, its cheek, its chin,
'Tis a like dady, just like him,
His very self,
Tho' it look'd canker'd, sour an' grim,
Like ony elf.
Then whisp'ring low to me she harked,
Indeed your hips they shou'd be yarked,
Nae mair Mess John, nor dare ye clarkit,
Faith ye hae ca'd
Your hogs unto a bonny market
Indeed, my lad;
Indeed your hips they shou'd be yarked,
Nae mair Mess John, nor dare ye clarkit,
Faith ye hae ca'd
Your hogs unto a bonny market
Indeed, my lad;
But tell me, man, I shou'd say master,
What muckle deil in your way chas'd her?
Lowns baith! but I think I hae plac'd her,
Now on her side,
My coming here has not disgrac'd her,
At the Yule tide.
What muckle deil in your way chas'd her?
Lowns baith! but I think I hae plac'd her,
Now on her side,
My coming here has not disgrac'd her,
At the Yule tide.
An' for yoursell, ye dare na look
Hereafter ever on a book,
Your mou' about the psa'ms to crook;
Ye've play'd the fool,
Anither now your post maun bruik,
An' you the stool.
Hereafter ever on a book,
Your mou' about the psa'ms to crook;
Ye've play'd the fool,
Anither now your post maun bruik,
An' you the stool.
14
She bann'd her saul, and then she blest it,
In the Kirk-books it would be listed,
An' thus the weary wife insisted,
Our Lettergae
Will sit whar he will not be pisht at
By dogs some day.
In the Kirk-books it would be listed,
An' thus the weary wife insisted,
Our Lettergae
Will sit whar he will not be pisht at
By dogs some day.
She wrung her hands, until they cracked,
An' sadly me she sham'd an' lacked—
Ah man! the Priest, how will he tak it,
Whan he hears tell,
How Maggy's mitten ye hae glacket,
Ye ken yoursell.
An' sadly me she sham'd an' lacked—
Ah man! the Priest, how will he tak it,
Whan he hears tell,
How Maggy's mitten ye hae glacket,
Ye ken yoursell.
The Session-Clark to play sic prankies,
Ye'll stan', I fear, upo' your shankies,
An' may be slaver in the brankies;
It cou'd na miss,
But lifting Maggy's killimankies,
Wou'd turn to this.
Ye'll stan', I fear, upo' your shankies,
An' may be slaver in the brankies;
It cou'd na miss,
But lifting Maggy's killimankies,
Wou'd turn to this.
A toothless Houdy, auld and teugh,
Says, Cummer, husht, we hae aneugh,
Thirsh mony ane has touch't the pleugh,
As gude ash he,
An' yetch gane backlench o'er the heugh,
Shae let him be.
Says, Cummer, husht, we hae aneugh,
Thirsh mony ane has touch't the pleugh,
As gude ash he,
An' yetch gane backlench o'er the heugh,
Shae let him be.
Hesh no, quoth she, tho' he'sh be lear'd,
That ye ken what, they hae crept near't,
For you an' I hash aft-times heard
O' nine or ten,
Wha thush the Clergy hath beshmear'd
Wi' their own Pen.
That ye ken what, they hae crept near't,
For you an' I hash aft-times heard
O' nine or ten,
Wha thush the Clergy hath beshmear'd
Wi' their own Pen.
15
The auld mou'd wives thus did me taunt,
Tho' a' was true, I must needs grant,
But ae thing maistly made me faint,
Poor Meg lay still,
An' look'd as loesome as a saint
That kend nae ill.
Tho' a' was true, I must needs grant,
But ae thing maistly made me faint,
Poor Meg lay still,
An' look'd as loesome as a saint
That kend nae ill.
Then a' the giglets young and gaudy,
Sware by their sauls, I might be wady,
For getting sic a lusty laddy,
Sae like mysell;
An' made me blush wi' speaking baudy,
'Bout what befel.
Sware by their sauls, I might be wady,
For getting sic a lusty laddy,
Sae like mysell;
An' made me blush wi' speaking baudy,
'Bout what befel.
Thus auld and young their verdict had,
'Bout Maggy's being brought to bed,
I thought my fill, yet little said,
Or had to say,
To reap the fruit o' sic a trade
On guide Yule-day.
'Bout Maggy's being brought to bed,
I thought my fill, yet little said,
Or had to say,
To reap the fruit o' sic a trade
On guide Yule-day.
What sometimes in the mou' is sweet,
Turns bitter in the wame;
I grumbl'd sair to get the geet,
At sic a merry time.
Turns bitter in the wame;
I grumbl'd sair to get the geet,
At sic a merry time.
III. PART III.
Now Maggy's twasome in a swoon,
A counsel held condemns the lown,
The cushle mushle thus gaed roun',
Our bonny Clark,
He'll get the dud an' sacken gown,
That ugly sark.
A counsel held condemns the lown,
The cushle mushle thus gaed roun',
Our bonny Clark,
He'll get the dud an' sacken gown,
That ugly sark.
16
Consider, sirs, now this his crime,
'Tis no like hers, or yours, or mine,
He's just next thing to a divine,
An' wow, 'tis odd,
Sic men shou'd a' their senses tine,
An' fear o' God.
'Tis no like hers, or yours, or mine,
He's just next thing to a divine,
An' wow, 'tis odd,
Sic men shou'd a' their senses tine,
An' fear o' God.
'Tis strange what maks kirk fouk sae stupid,
To mak or meddle wi' the fuca'it,
Or mint to preach in sic a pu'pit,
The senseless fools,
Far better for them hunt the tyouchet
Or teach their schools.
To mak or meddle wi' the fuca'it,
Or mint to preach in sic a pu'pit,
The senseless fools,
Far better for them hunt the tyouchet
Or teach their schools.
They hunt about frae house to house,
Just as a taylor hunts a louse,
Still girding at the barley-juice,
An' aft get drunk,
They plump into some open sluice,
Where a' is sunk.
Just as a taylor hunts a louse,
Still girding at the barley-juice,
An' aft get drunk,
They plump into some open sluice,
Where a' is sunk.
A plague upo' that oil o' ma't,
That weary drink is a' their fau't,
It made our Dominie to hau't;
The text fulfil
Which bids cast out the sareless sa't
On the dunghill.
That weary drink is a' their fau't,
It made our Dominie to hau't;
The text fulfil
Which bids cast out the sareless sa't
On the dunghill.
They are sae fed, they ly sae saft,
They are sae hain'd, they grow sae daft;
This breeds ill wiles, ye ken, fu' aft
In the black coat,
Till poor Mess John, an' the priest-craft,
Gaes ti' the pot:
They are sae hain'd, they grow sae daft;
This breeds ill wiles, ye ken, fu' aft
In the black coat,
Till poor Mess John, an' the priest-craft,
Gaes ti' the pot:
17
I tald them, then, it was but wicked
To add affliction to the afflicted,
But to it they were sae addicted,
They said therefore,
The clout about me shou'd be pricked
At the Kirk-door.
To add affliction to the afflicted,
But to it they were sae addicted,
They said therefore,
The clout about me shou'd be pricked
At the Kirk-door.
But yet nor kirk nor consterie,
Quoth they, can ask the taudy fee;
Tell them in words just twa or three,
The deil a plack,
For tary-breeks shou'd ay gae free,
An' he's the Clark.
Quoth they, can ask the taudy fee;
Tell them in words just twa or three,
The deil a plack,
For tary-breeks shou'd ay gae free,
An' he's the Clark.
I then was dumb; how I was griev'd!
What wou'd I gien to be reliev'd!
They us'd me war than I had thiev'd,
Some strain'd their lungs,
An' very loud they me mischiev'd
Wi' their ill tongues.
What wou'd I gien to be reliev'd!
They us'd me war than I had thiev'd,
Some strain'd their lungs,
An' very loud they me mischiev'd
Wi' their ill tongues.
Had you been there to hear an' see,
The manner how they guided me,
An' greater pennance wha cou'd dree!
A Lettergae,
Wi' sic a pack confin'd to be,
On guide Yule-day.
The manner how they guided me,
An' greater pennance wha cou'd dree!
A Lettergae,
Wi' sic a pack confin'd to be,
On guide Yule-day.
Young Jack wi' skirls he pierc'd the skies,
I pray'd that death might close his eyes,
But did not meet with that surprize,
To my regret,
Sae had ne help, but up an' cries
Het drinks to get.
I pray'd that death might close his eyes,
But did not meet with that surprize,
To my regret,
Sae had ne help, but up an' cries
Het drinks to get.
18
This laid their din; the drink was stale,
An' to't they gade wi' tooth an' nail:
An' wives whase rotten tusks did fail,
Wi' bread and cheese,
They birl'd fu' fast at butter'd ale
To gie them ease.
An' to't they gade wi' tooth an' nail:
An' wives whase rotten tusks did fail,
Wi' bread and cheese,
They birl'd fu' fast at butter'd ale
To gie them ease.
They ca' upon me, then dadda,
Come tune your fiddle, play us a
Jigg or hornpipe, nae mair SOLFA,
My bonny cock;
The Kirk an' you maun pluck a fa'
About young Jock.
Come tune your fiddle, play us a
Jigg or hornpipe, nae mair SOLFA,
My bonny cock;
The Kirk an' you maun pluck a fa'
About young Jock.
Play up Sae merry as we hae been,
Or, Wat ye wha we met yestreen,
Or, Lass will ye lend me your leem?
Or Soups o' Brandy;
Or, Gin the Kirk wad let's alane,
Or, Houghmagandy.
Or, Wat ye wha we met yestreen,
Or, Lass will ye lend me your leem?
Or Soups o' Brandy;
Or, Gin the Kirk wad let's alane,
Or, Houghmagandy.
Sic tunes as these, yea, three or four,
They called for, ill mat they cour,
Play, cries the cummer, wi' a glour,
The wanton towdy,
Wha did the Dominie ding o'er,
Just heels o'er goudy.
They called for, ill mat they cour,
Play, cries the cummer, wi' a glour,
The wanton towdy,
Wha did the Dominie ding o'er,
Just heels o'er goudy.
O' music I had little skill,
But as I cou'd, I play'd my fill,
It was my best to shaw good-will;
Yet a' my drift
Was best how I might win the hill
The wives to shift.
But as I cou'd, I play'd my fill,
It was my best to shaw good-will;
Yet a' my drift
Was best how I might win the hill
The wives to shift.
19
“Sae leaving them to drink het ale,
“I slipt awa' and let them rail:
“Then running till my breath did fail,
“I was right glad
“Frae Kirk an' wives to tak leg-bail.—
“Nae doubt they said,”
“I slipt awa' and let them rail:
“Then running till my breath did fail,
“I was right glad
“Frae Kirk an' wives to tak leg-bail.—
“Nae doubt they said,”
The Lettergae has play'd the fool,
And shifted the Repenting-Stool,
To Kirk and Session bids good-day,
He'll o'er the hills and far away.
And shifted the Repenting-Stool,
To Kirk and Session bids good-day,
He'll o'er the hills and far away.
THE SEQUEL.
Now loving friends I hae you left,
Ye ken I neither stole nor reft,
But when I found mysell infeft,
In a young Jack,
I did resolve to change the haft
For that mistak.
Ye ken I neither stole nor reft,
But when I found mysell infeft,
In a young Jack,
I did resolve to change the haft
For that mistak.
An' reasons mae I had anew,
For I had neither horse nor cow;
My stock took wings, an' aff it flew,
Sae a' was gone,
An' deil a flee had I was new
Except young John.
For I had neither horse nor cow;
My stock took wings, an' aff it flew,
Sae a' was gone,
An' deil a flee had I was new
Except young John.
20
Too aft my thirsty-throat to cool,
I went to visit the punch bowl,
Which makes me now wear reddish wool
Instead o' black;
Or I must foot the cutty-stool,
Wi' deil a plack.
I went to visit the punch bowl,
Which makes me now wear reddish wool
Instead o' black;
Or I must foot the cutty-stool,
Wi' deil a plack.
The chappin stoup, the pint an' gill,
Too aft I caused for to fill,
Ay loving those wha wou'd sit still,
An' wet the mouth,
Ne'er minding that the Tullo-Hill
Leads people south.
Too aft I caused for to fill,
Ay loving those wha wou'd sit still,
An' wet the mouth,
Ne'er minding that the Tullo-Hill
Leads people south.
O but that loving laird Kingswells
My blessings flow where his foot swells,
Lang life to him whate'er befals,
God be his guide,
He's cur'd a thousand thirsty sauls,
An' mine beside.
My blessings flow where his foot swells,
Lang life to him whate'er befals,
God be his guide,
He's cur'd a thousand thirsty sauls,
An' mine beside.
O had I but thae days again,
Which I sae freely spent in vain,
I'd strive some better for to ken,
What future chance
Shou'd blaw me here out o'er the main,
And sae near France.
Which I sae freely spent in vain,
I'd strive some better for to ken,
What future chance
Shou'd blaw me here out o'er the main,
And sae near France.
“But since what ails maun ay befal
“The cheil that will be prodigal;
“When wasted to the very spaul
“He turns his tusk,
“For want o' comfort to his saul,
“On hungry husk.”
“The cheil that will be prodigal;
“When wasted to the very spaul
“He turns his tusk,
“For want o' comfort to his saul,
“On hungry husk.”
21
Now since I'm aff sae mony a mile,
There's naithing got without some toil,
I ll wait; cross fortune anes may smile,
Come want, come wealth,
An' tak a pint in the mean while,
To Heilden's health.
There's naithing got without some toil,
I ll wait; cross fortune anes may smile,
Come want, come wealth,
An' tak a pint in the mean while,
To Heilden's health.
Sae, for a time, friends, fare ye weel
My pot companions, true an' leel,
I wish you a' a merry Yule,
Much mirth an' glee.
Nae mair young Jacks into the creel
That day for me.
My pot companions, true an' leel,
I wish you a' a merry Yule,
Much mirth an' glee.
Nae mair young Jacks into the creel
That day for me.
Some ither Yule may yet cast up,
When we again shall meet;
To drown our sorrows in a cup,
In case we live to see't.
When we again shall meet;
To drown our sorrows in a cup,
In case we live to see't.
THE END.
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.
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