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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| I. |
| II. |
| III. | PART III. |
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 | The Dominie Depos'd |  |
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 Dominie Depos'd | |