 | Poems And Songs |  |
28
A STORY.
Ance near oor toon there leeved a man,
O' means and substance guid;
His veins—'twas sae the story ran—
Were filled wi' gentle bluid.
O' means and substance guid;
His veins—'twas sae the story ran—
Were filled wi' gentle bluid.
But o' whate'er degree his bluid,
Ae weighty fact was clear—
The man was worth o' guineas guid
Twa hunner every year.
Ae weighty fact was clear—
The man was worth o' guineas guid
Twa hunner every year.
A cottage hame, wi' a' complete
That comfort needs, had he;
A wife wi' lady-manners sweet,
And chubby angels three.
That comfort needs, had he;
A wife wi' lady-manners sweet,
And chubby angels three.
29
And he had shelfs o' chosen books
To wauken dreams o' fame,
Wi' sunny smiles and happy looks
To cheer his hours at hame.
To wauken dreams o' fame,
Wi' sunny smiles and happy looks
To cheer his hours at hame.
To certain noble virtues he
Wi' reason could pretend;
He practised ceaseless industry—
When he had ought to spend.
Wi' reason could pretend;
He practised ceaseless industry—
When he had ought to spend.
And frae his meek and bonny Jess
(For mild and fair was she)
His fancy never roamed—unless
When ithers took his ee.
(For mild and fair was she)
His fancy never roamed—unless
When ithers took his ee.
The cash that should his weans defend
Frae wants aye drawin' nigh,
It ne'er cam in his head to spend—
Unless when he was dry.
Frae wants aye drawin' nigh,
It ne'er cam in his head to spend—
Unless when he was dry.
He aye approved o' Jessie's plan
Frae debt far wide to steer;
In short, he was a model man—
Unless when on the beer.
Frae debt far wide to steer;
30
Unless when on the beer.
But oft, alas! wi' jovial foes
He spent a noisy night;
Nor glowered an inch before his nose
To see if a' was right.
He spent a noisy night;
Nor glowered an inch before his nose
To see if a' was right.
And then his motto was, “Be mine
The joys debauch can gi'e;
If Care defies the warmth o' wine,
He'll ne'er be fear't for tea.”
The joys debauch can gi'e;
If Care defies the warmth o' wine,
He'll ne'er be fear't for tea.”
And aften he ignored the wife
That should hae been his boast,
To ruin credit, means, and life,
Wi' hizzies at the coast.
That should hae been his boast,
To ruin credit, means, and life,
Wi' hizzies at the coast.
If then a thought o' Jessie durst
Across his memory steal,
His feeling was, “My pleasure first,
And then the family's weal.”
Across his memory steal,
His feeling was, “My pleasure first,
And then the family's weal.”
31
On, on he ran in Ruin's airt,
The chief o' mony fools,
Till Jessie, wi' a broken heart,
Was laid amang the mools.
The chief o' mony fools,
Till Jessie, wi' a broken heart,
Was laid amang the mools.
And on, still on, in giddy whirl,
Till a' his bairns were gane;
And in a cauld and freenless worl'
He ran his race alane.
Till a' his bairns were gane;
And in a cauld and freenless worl'
He ran his race alane.
Still on, and downward, still he sank,
From trouble never free;
He ance had pleasure when he drank,
Now pleasures none had he.
From trouble never free;
He ance had pleasure when he drank,
Now pleasures none had he.
Still downward, grade by grade, he passed,
In spite o' bluid and pride;
The fearfu' climax came at last—
He died—a suicide.
In spite o' bluid and pride;
The fearfu' climax came at last—
He died—a suicide.
Yet some that lo'ed him weel declare
The faut was no his ain,—
That less depends on rank and lair
Than fashion o' the brain.
The faut was no his ain,—
32
Than fashion o' the brain.
They say that guid and evil rule,
Each throned below oor hair;
That ye are wise, and I'm a fool,
Just as their power is there;
Each throned below oor hair;
That ye are wise, and I'm a fool,
Just as their power is there;
And cry, “Be charitable, ye
Whase craniums, balanced weel,
Frae social vices keep ye free,
And distant frae the deil.
Whase craniums, balanced weel,
Frae social vices keep ye free,
And distant frae the deil.
“Ye righteous, wha can only thole
The pure in thought and deed,
Before ye sink a neebor's soul,
Tak' time, and fin' his head.”
The pure in thought and deed,
Before ye sink a neebor's soul,
Tak' time, and fin' his head.”
But we, that scarce the drift can see
O' words sae glib and nice,
Suspect the maudlin' charity
That shrinks from blaming Vice.
O' words sae glib and nice,
Suspect the maudlin' charity
That shrinks from blaming Vice.
| Poems And Songs | |