Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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I'VE AYE BEEN FOU SIN' THE YEAR CAM' IN. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
164
I'VE AYE BEEN FOU SIN' THE YEAR CAM' IN.
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in,
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in;
It's what wi' the brandy, an' what wi' the gin,
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in;
It's what wi' the brandy, an' what wi' the gin,
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Our Yule friends they met, and a gay stoup we drank,
The bicker gaed round, and the pint stoup did clank;
But that was a' naething, as shortly ye'll fin'—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
The bicker gaed round, and the pint stoup did clank;
But that was a' naething, as shortly ye'll fin'—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Our auld timmer clock, wi' thorl an' string,
Had scarce shawn the hour whilk the new year did bring,
Whan friends an' acquantance cam' tirl at the pin—
An' I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Had scarce shawn the hour whilk the new year did bring,
Whan friends an' acquantance cam' tirl at the pin—
An' I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
165
My auld aunty Tibbie cam' ben for her cap,
Wi' scon in her hand, an' cheese in her lap,
An' drank—a gude New Year to kith an' to kin—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Wi' scon in her hand, an' cheese in her lap,
An' drank—a gude New Year to kith an' to kin—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
My strong brither Sandy cam' in frae the south—
There's some ken his mettle, but nane ken his drouth!—
I brought out the bottle—losh! how he did grin!—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
There's some ken his mettle, but nane ken his drouth!—
I brought out the bottle—losh! how he did grin!—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Wi' feasting at night, and wi' drinking at morn,
Wi' here tak' a kaulker, an' there tak' a horn,
I've gatten baith doited, an' donner't, an' blin'—
For I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Wi' here tak' a kaulker, an' there tak' a horn,
I've gatten baith doited, an' donner't, an' blin'—
For I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
I sent for the doctor, an' bade him sit down,
He felt at my hand, an' he straiket my crown:
He ordered a bottle—but it turned out gin!—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
He felt at my hand, an' he straiket my crown:
He ordered a bottle—but it turned out gin!—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
The Sunday bell rang, an' I thought it as weel
To slip into the kirk, to steer clear o' the de'il;
But the chiel at the plate fand a groat left behin'—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
To slip into the kirk, to steer clear o' the de'il;
But the chiel at the plate fand a groat left behin'—
Sae I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
166
'Tis Candlemas time, an' the wee birds o' spring
Are chirming an' chirping as if they wad sing;
While here I sit bousing—'tis really a sin!—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
Are chirming an' chirping as if they wad sing;
While here I sit bousing—'tis really a sin!—
I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
The last breath o' winter is soughing awa',
An' sune down the valley the primrose will blaw;
A douce sober life I maun really begin,
For I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
An' sune down the valley the primrose will blaw;
A douce sober life I maun really begin,
For I've aye been fou sin' the year cam' in!
| Poems and Songs | |