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114

MY AUNTIE NANNIE.

PART FIRST.

Whene'er o' heroines I read,
In lang romancin' story,
Wha think ye aye comes in my head,
Eclipsin' a' their glory?—
Wha but my ain auld Auntie Nan',
My peerless Auntie Nannie!
Wi' winnin' smile and open haun',
And ways sae quate and cannie.
Her hair was grey sin' ere I min',
And maybe something langer;
And, oh! her heart was ever kin'—
Her haun' ne'er raised in anger.
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An air commandin' reverence seems
E'en yet to hang aboot her;
And aye I think my brightest dreams
But half complete withoot her.
Dear Auntie! time has tried in vain
To sever our connection;
Nae wecht o' years can e'er o'erstrain
The cord of pure affection.
When scramblin' up life's thistly hill,
If unco ills betide me,
I long to lean upon ye still,
And wish your wit to guide me.
I aften, aften see ye yet,
As on the winter e'enin',
Beside your glimmerin' crusie sit,
Close o'er your needle leanin';
And still I hear the gentle voice
That coaxed me through my spellin'
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Wi' promises o' “something nice,”
Or weeks o' dux foretellin'.
On Sabbath morns still, yet as gay
And trig as ony fairy,
I climb wi' you the auld kirk brae,
In muslin dress fu' airy.
Nought cared she though her gown was bare,
Provided mine were dacent,
For hardship's rich but dear-bought lair
Ilk wish had tuned and chastened.
Her failing strength cost mony a thought,
Ne'er ane her failing beauty,
And aye she feared to fail in ought
That love for me ca'd duty.
For me the bonnet scuff't was worn,
Wi' boots sair darn't and clootit;
For me the weary vigil borne,
And naething said aboot it.
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Aft by the bed I've seen her kneel,
And breathe the name o' Mirren;
Aft hae I seen her tears doon steal
The time her wheel was whirrin':
Aft while her pinglin' trade she plied,
And shaped the silken blossom,
She paused, and drew me to her side,
And pressed me to her bosom.
Noo Auntie's in the grave, and yet
To mourn seems out o' reason;
Why should we at a parting fret,
That's only for a season?

PART SECOND.

Whene'er I think o' Auntie Nan',
Her wee bit hamely garret
To match wi' halls and mansions gran'
My fancy aye brings forrit.
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How fondly my affections cling
Aye to that humble dwellin'!
What pleasant memories aye upspring,
As thus its praise I'm tellin'!
Upon the steep and narrow stair
I hear my blithesome singin',
And seem to feel the frail auld floor
Beneath my footsteps springin'.
Though paper patches here and there
Secured the loosened plaster;
Though through the wa's cam' streams o' air,
That Auntie scarce could master;
Though laigh the roof and sair camsiled,
Yet heaven looked through the ceilin',
And in its light my auntie toiled,
Nae murmurin' thought revealin'.
Its plenishin'—important a'—
The girrs that held her flowerin',
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The wheel that sair I grudged to ca',
The tent for her tambourin'.
There Patience waited on the wa',
And Hope sat by her anchor;
Aye in their lessons Auntie saw
A cure for Envy's canker.
A trunk beneath the bed half-hid
Its lettered lid fu' gaudy,
And on the weel-brushed mantel stood
Her lockit red tea-caudie.
A brazen-bordered looking-glass
Hung aye 'tween Hope and Patience;
Beneath, the china cups (nae less)
She used on rare occasions.
But, chief, the wa'-bag in the neuk
Hung near her chair fu' haun'y,
Within't the weel-thoom't Holy Beuk,
Sae dear to Auntie Nannie.
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It held the “Proofs” I ne'er could learn,
Though bribed wi' mony a gravit;
Her needlecase, her curlin' airn,
The metred Psalms o' Davit.
Almanacs in't, aye nine or ten,
Gied texts for mony a story
O' battles or o' martyred men—
Auld Scotland's croon o' glory.
Her specks were there, her shears, an' a'
In use whate'er excell't it;
Na, even a roset-en' or twa
Hung on the nail that held it.
Earth's humblest biel! thou wast to me
A hame where Care leaned cannie;
In memory aye thou shrined shall be
Beside my Auntie Nannie.
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