Poems and ballads Second edition. By Janet Hamilton ... With introductory papers by the Rev. George Gilfillan and the Rev. Alexander Wallace |
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GRANNIE MIRK. |
 | Poems and ballads |  |
253
GRANNIE MIRK.
A STIRLING GRANNIE.
A clever young dominie—noo in a kirk—
Was keepin' a schule near to auld Grannie Mirk—
A couthie auld grannie as e'er ye micht fin',
She wadna be idle, though feckly gane blin'.
Was keepin' a schule near to auld Grannie Mirk—
A couthie auld grannie as e'er ye micht fin',
She wadna be idle, though feckly gane blin'.
Her heid was weel stockit wi' gude common sense—
In ilk' thing she did there was kindness an' mense;
To clashes an' clavers she wadna gae heed,
But ne'er was she hainin' to bodies in need.
In ilk' thing she did there was kindness an' mense;
To clashes an' clavers she wadna gae heed,
But ne'er was she hainin' to bodies in need.
Whan bairnies to schule wad come dreepin' wi' rain,
She dried the wat duds o' ilk puir droukit wean;
At her weel-beetit fire and cozie fire-en'
She gather'd the bairns like an auld clockin'-hen.
She dried the wat duds o' ilk puir droukit wean;
At her weel-beetit fire and cozie fire-en'
She gather'd the bairns like an auld clockin'-hen.
An' aft at twal'-oors, to auld grannie's fireside,
The dominie cam' for a weeock to bide;
A crumpie ait farle, wi' butter weel spread,
She gied him, an' wow but the chappie was glad.
The dominie cam' for a weeock to bide;
A crumpie ait farle, wi' butter weel spread,
She gied him, an' wow but the chappie was glad.
Oor grannie was juist a real auld-warl' wife,
An' butter'd her cakes wi' an auld-fashion'd knife,
An' that was nae ither but grannie's ain thoom;
But the chiel bein' yaup, ne'er thocht o' the coom.
An' butter'd her cakes wi' an auld-fashion'd knife,
An' that was nae ither but grannie's ain thoom;
But the chiel bein' yaup, ne'er thocht o' the coom.
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Noo the schule it is skail'd, an' grannie's gane hame,
An' the dominie's ekit D.D. to his name;
An' lang may he bruck a' the honours he's won,
The goal be as bricht as the race he has run.
An' the dominie's ekit D.D. to his name;
An' lang may he bruck a' the honours he's won,
The goal be as bricht as the race he has run.
A HAMILTON GRANNIE.
As she lay on her bed, frail dowie, an' dune,
The neebors a' thocht that her en' wad be sune;
That mornin' a gent had cum in frae the toun
To speir for her weelfare, an' sat himsel' doun.
The neebors a' thocht that her en' wad be sune;
That mornin' a gent had cum in frae the toun
To speir for her weelfare, an' sat himsel' doun.
“Hoo's a' wi' ye, grannie? an' whan did ye hear
Frae Davie, yer son? it's o' him I wad speir,
Wha has travell'd sae far through forest an' flood,
Wi' his life in his haun, for the hale warl's gude.
Frae Davie, yer son? it's o' him I wad speir,
Wha has travell'd sae far through forest an' flood,
Wi' his life in his haun, for the hale warl's gude.
“Thou art blest amang mithers; nae leddy or queen
Has gi'en sic a son to the kintra, I ween;
He's an honour to Scotlan', an' lang afterhen'
He's laid in the mools, he'll be blest amang men.”
Has gi'en sic a son to the kintra, I ween;
He's an honour to Scotlan', an' lang afterhen'
He's laid in the mools, he'll be blest amang men.”
Auld grannie lay still, sae contentit to hear
The praise o' her son sae duteous an' dear;
She leuk'd in his face, and said—“Bide ye a wee,
I've something o' Davie's will please ye to see.”
The praise o' her son sae duteous an' dear;
She leuk'd in his face, and said—“Bide ye a wee,
I've something o' Davie's will please ye to see.”
“Gae Jeanie, my dochter,” then grannie began,
“Bring Davie's hauf-croon, its the first that he wan;
A studgel bit callan he brocht it to me—
‘That's the erles o' mair, my mither,’ quo' he.
“Bring Davie's hauf-croon, its the first that he wan;
A studgel bit callan he brocht it to me—
‘That's the erles o' mair, my mither,’ quo' he.
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An' mony lang years after he gied me this,
My Davie cam' back, his auld mither to bless,
Frae far-awa' lan's, whaur the black bodies bide,
An' fock gied him welcome wi' pleasure an' pride.
My Davie cam' back, his auld mither to bless,
Frae far-awa' lan's, whaur the black bodies bide,
An' fock gied him welcome wi' pleasure an' pride.
“They honour'd an' prais'd him, an' gowpens o' gowd
They gather'd for him, an' right freely bestow'd;
Then swith to his ain mither's dwallin' he's gaun
Wi' the twa-thousan' cheque they laid in his haun.
They gather'd for him, an' right freely bestow'd;
Then swith to his ain mither's dwallin' he's gaun
Wi' the twa-thousan' cheque they laid in his haun.
“He stood at my knee, an' he there laid it doon—
‘O, dinna ye min' o' yer Davie's hauf croon!
The first that he wrocht for? noo, see what is there;
I tauld ye that it was the erles o' mair.’
‘O, dinna ye min' o' yer Davie's hauf croon!
The first that he wrocht for? noo, see what is there;
I tauld ye that it was the erles o' mair.’
“Noo, tak' the bit siller intil yer ain haun,
It's precious to me, ye may weel unnerstaun;
It's no a' the siller in kintra an' toun
Wad tempt me to pairt wi' my Davie's hauf-croon.”
It's precious to me, ye may weel unnerstaun;
It's no a' the siller in kintra an' toun
Wad tempt me to pairt wi' my Davie's hauf-croon.”
Noo grannie sleeps soun' in the caul' bed o' death;
On dear Davie's bosom she drew her last breath.
Again he's on travel; may God be his guide;
Bless a' his sair labours, protect an' provide!
On dear Davie's bosom she drew her last breath.
Again he's on travel; may God be his guide;
Bless a' his sair labours, protect an' provide!
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