 | Poems and Songs |  |
Last Words.
“Oh! Willie, I'm weary wi' waitin
Sae lang and sae lanely alane;
I'm weary wi' lyin' in darkness,
And thinkin' o' joys that are gane.
I'm painless, an' weel might be patient;
For a' that I think o' seems clear—
Things in the lift aboon me,
And things aboot me here.
Sae lang and sae lanely alane;
I'm weary wi' lyin' in darkness,
And thinkin' o' joys that are gane.
I'm painless, an' weel might be patient;
For a' that I think o' seems clear—
Things in the lift aboon me,
And things aboot me here.
50
“Ay, Willie, the endless day's dawnin',
And there are some things I maun say:
Some things that may never be spoken,
Unless they are spoken this day.
The sum of my moments are reckoned,
And maybe before the nicht fa'
Ye'll hear the wing-waff o' the angel
That enters to bear me awa.
And there are some things I maun say:
Some things that may never be spoken,
Unless they are spoken this day.
The sum of my moments are reckoned,
And maybe before the nicht fa'
Ye'll hear the wing-waff o' the angel
That enters to bear me awa.
“In the sweet buddy May we were married—
Oh, lichtsome and brief was that year;
But, Willie, e'en then a foretastin'
O' sorrow at times brang a tear;
For e'en in that year ye were foolish,
And idle, but hopefu' was I;
Oh, I couldna think ill o' my Willie,
And I said, ‘It's a cloud will blaw by.’
Oh, lichtsome and brief was that year;
But, Willie, e'en then a foretastin'
O' sorrow at times brang a tear;
For e'en in that year ye were foolish,
And idle, but hopefu' was I;
Oh, I couldna think ill o' my Willie,
And I said, ‘It's a cloud will blaw by.’
“But, ah! 'twas a cloud that lang lingered;
Oh, Willie, look roun' and see:
I brang ye some gear to be prood o',
But what in the world noo hae we?
Oh! Willie, gin ilka kind neebor
Would tak' but the gear that's her ain,
The bed would be bare that I lie on,
And cleedin' oor bairns would hae nane.
Oh, Willie, look roun' and see:
I brang ye some gear to be prood o',
But what in the world noo hae we?
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Would tak' but the gear that's her ain,
The bed would be bare that I lie on,
And cleedin' oor bairns would hae nane.
“And why are we gearless and naked?
Oh! think, for it's time ye should think!
Hae ye in sair trouble been lyin'?
O' an early grave been at the brink?
Or, hae ye been idle and thoughtless?—
Aye flingin' your wages awa,
And heedless o' what would come owre us,
Sae lang as a gill ye could ca'?
Oh! think, for it's time ye should think!
Hae ye in sair trouble been lyin'?
O' an early grave been at the brink?
Or, hae ye been idle and thoughtless?—
Aye flingin' your wages awa,
And heedless o' what would come owre us,
Sae lang as a gill ye could ca'?
“The warst was the way o't, my Willie.
Na, ye maun be patient an' hear—
For that was the wearyfu' way o't,
Forever frae year to year.
Ay, aye to be sober you promised;
But aye ye were draggin' us doon,
Aye filling my haun' wi' a penny,
That shouldna been less than a croon.
Na, ye maun be patient an' hear—
For that was the wearyfu' way o't,
Forever frae year to year.
Ay, aye to be sober you promised;
But aye ye were draggin' us doon,
Aye filling my haun' wi' a penny,
That shouldna been less than a croon.
52
“And what was the worth o' your promise?
At times for a fortnicht ye wrocht,
Or, maybe, a month at the langest,
When savin' was a' your thocht.
‘Ay, Leezie, we noo maun be hainin',
E'en hainin' o' meat,' ye would say;
‘For, Leezie, oor claes maun be lifted
As soon as the sillar we hae.’
At times for a fortnicht ye wrocht,
Or, maybe, a month at the langest,
When savin' was a' your thocht.
‘Ay, Leezie, we noo maun be hainin',
E'en hainin' o' meat,' ye would say;
‘For, Leezie, oor claes maun be lifted
As soon as the sillar we hae.’
“Then, Willie, I sinned at your biddin'
By leevin' a'maist on the win',
And starvin' my bairns, a' to please ye;
And what when the wrong had been done?
What aye was the end o' my sinnin'?
Wha e'er was the better o't a'?
When ye, in a fortnicht o' folly,
Flang a' I had sinned for awa.
By leevin' a'maist on the win',
And starvin' my bairns, a' to please ye;
And what when the wrong had been done?
What aye was the end o' my sinnin'?
Wha e'er was the better o't a'?
When ye, in a fortnicht o' folly,
Flang a' I had sinned for awa.
“Oh! Willie, my youth's only idol!
My heaven, and my a' that was dear!
I fain to the last would speak kindly,
Sae ye maun be patient and hear.
But memories aboot me are croodin'—
Ill things that I fain would forget—
I see that it micht hae been better
For baith gin we never had met.
My heaven, and my a' that was dear!
I fain to the last would speak kindly,
Sae ye maun be patient and hear.
53
Ill things that I fain would forget—
I see that it micht hae been better
For baith gin we never had met.
“Ay, ye wi' a wife should hae buckled
That aye to hersel' could be true,
That wadna hae borne a' your follies,
But aye gien her wee things their due,
I should hae been firm as the mountain
That turns the wild torrent aside.
O, muckle ye needed a woman
That wisely and strongly could guide.
That aye to hersel' could be true,
That wadna hae borne a' your follies,
But aye gien her wee things their due,
I should hae been firm as the mountain
That turns the wild torrent aside.
O, muckle ye needed a woman
That wisely and strongly could guide.
“Aye flytin'? I weel micht hae flitten;
But flytin' I carena tae try;
Wi' kindness I houpit to win ye,
And kind to you ever was I.
But a' things aboot me grew clearer:
I see 'twas mysel' 'twas to blame,
For kindness, that tames the fell tiger,
Aye won me but sorrow and shame.
But flytin' I carena tae try;
Wi' kindness I houpit to win ye,
And kind to you ever was I.
But a' things aboot me grew clearer:
I see 'twas mysel' 'twas to blame,
For kindness, that tames the fell tiger,
Aye won me but sorrow and shame.
54
“Deeper, and deeper, and deeper,
Aye ye were draggin' us doon!
Ye were shunned by the sober and manly,
And ever the talk o' the toon.
Pawnin' whate'er ye could carry,
Beddin' and ocht that was gear;
And pawnin' whate'er ye can borrow,
E'en while I am lingerin' here.
Aye ye were draggin' us doon!
Ye were shunned by the sober and manly,
And ever the talk o' the toon.
Pawnin' whate'er ye could carry,
Beddin' and ocht that was gear;
And pawnin' whate'er ye can borrow,
E'en while I am lingerin' here.
“Ay, I was to blame for't, I fear me:
Though leddies baith noble and fair
Hae come to my bed like the sunshine,
And cheer'd me wi' kindliest care.
Oh, rare are the uncos they bring me—
For gratitude sweetens them a';
But, Willie, the shame o' my needin'
Comes in wi' them aye when they ca'.
Though leddies baith noble and fair
Hae come to my bed like the sunshine,
And cheer'd me wi' kindliest care.
Oh, rare are the uncos they bring me—
For gratitude sweetens them a';
But, Willie, the shame o' my needin'
Comes in wi' them aye when they ca'.
“Willie, my love and my sorrow,
Oh, wherefore frae strangers need we?
This is the thing ye maun answer,
E'en though ye are silent tae me.
Why are we needin' an awmus?
Oh, say for yoursel' if ye can—
‘Wad Leezie frae strangers be needin'
Gin I had behaved like a man?’
Oh, wherefore frae strangers need we?
This is the thing ye maun answer,
E'en though ye are silent tae me.
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Oh, say for yoursel' if ye can—
‘Wad Leezie frae strangers be needin'
Gin I had behaved like a man?’
“Willie, my love, ye maun answer.
Oh, dinna wi' dourness be dumb;
Ye staun' in the licht o' the mornin'—
To me it's life's gloamin' that's come.
Sae gie me your haun' and your promise,
Ye'll work for oor bairns and yoursel;
I fain would hae faith in ye, Willie,
And joy and bricht days would foretell.
Oh, dinna wi' dourness be dumb;
Ye staun' in the licht o' the mornin'—
To me it's life's gloamin' that's come.
Sae gie me your haun' and your promise,
Ye'll work for oor bairns and yoursel;
I fain would hae faith in ye, Willie,
And joy and bricht days would foretell.
“Weaker, and weaker, and weaker!
Weaker at night and at morn!
Lang, lang is the road I hae travelled,
And heavy the burden I've borne!
But nocht were the road and the burden,
And pleasant the ending o't a',
Gin I could but see how my wee things
Will fare when their mither's awa.
Weaker at night and at morn!
Lang, lang is the road I hae travelled,
And heavy the burden I've borne!
But nocht were the road and the burden,
And pleasant the ending o't a',
Gin I could but see how my wee things
Will fare when their mither's awa.
56
“Oh! for a glint o' their future
Fairer than ocht that I see!
Oh! for a glint o' a future
Fair as for them it should be!
Aye a kind voice, like a father's,
Calling me hameward I hear;
But aye there's a soun', like the wailin'
O' wee hungry weans, in my ear.”
Fairer than ocht that I see!
Oh! for a glint o' a future
Fair as for them it should be!
Aye a kind voice, like a father's,
Calling me hameward I hear;
But aye there's a soun', like the wailin'
O' wee hungry weans, in my ear.”
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