The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill With biography, illustrations, and music |
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EPISTLE TO WILLIAM THOMSON. |
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 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
EPISTLE TO WILLIAM THOMSON.
June, 1805.
Dear Will, my much respected frien',
I send you this to let you ken
That, though at distance fate hath set you,
Your friends in Paisley don't forget you,
But often think on you, far lone,
Amang the braes of Overton.
I send you this to let you ken
That, though at distance fate hath set you,
Your friends in Paisley don't forget you,
But often think on you, far lone,
Amang the braes of Overton.
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Our social club continues yet,
Perpetual source of mirth and wit;
Our rigid rules admit but few,
Yet still we 'll keep a chair for you.
Perpetual source of mirth and wit;
Our rigid rules admit but few,
Yet still we 'll keep a chair for you.
A country life I 've oft envied,
Where love, and truth, and peace preside:
Without temptations to allure,
Your days glide on, unstain'd and pure;
Nae midnight revels waste your health,
Nor greedy landlord drains your wealth;
You're never fasht wi' whisky fever,
Nor dizzy pow, nor dulness ever,
But breathe the halesome caller air,
Remote from aught that genders care.
Where love, and truth, and peace preside:
Without temptations to allure,
Your days glide on, unstain'd and pure;
Nae midnight revels waste your health,
Nor greedy landlord drains your wealth;
You're never fasht wi' whisky fever,
Nor dizzy pow, nor dulness ever,
But breathe the halesome caller air,
Remote from aught that genders care.
I needna tell how much I lang
To hear your rural Scottish sang;
To hear you sing your heath-clad braes,
Your jocund nights, and happy days;
And lilt with glee the blithesome morn,
When dewdraps pearl every thorn;
When larks pour forth the early sang,
And linties chant the whins amang,
And pyats hap frae tree to tree,
Teaching their young anes how to flee;
While, frae the mavis to the wren,
A' warble sweet in bush or glen.
To hear your rural Scottish sang;
To hear you sing your heath-clad braes,
Your jocund nights, and happy days;
And lilt with glee the blithesome morn,
When dewdraps pearl every thorn;
When larks pour forth the early sang,
And linties chant the whins amang,
And pyats hap frae tree to tree,
Teaching their young anes how to flee;
While, frae the mavis to the wren,
A' warble sweet in bush or glen.
In town we scarce can find occasion
To note the beauties o' creation,
But study mankind's different dealings,
Their virtues, vices, merits, failings,—
Unpleasing task, compar'd wi' yours:
You range the hills 'mang mountain flow'rs,
And view, afar, the smoking town,
More blest than all its riches were your own.
To note the beauties o' creation,
But study mankind's different dealings,
Their virtues, vices, merits, failings,—
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You range the hills 'mang mountain flow'rs,
And view, afar, the smoking town,
More blest than all its riches were your own.
A lang epistle I might scribble,
But aiblins ye will grudge the trouble
Of reading sic low, hamert rhyme,
And sae it 's best to quat in time;
Sae I, with soul sincere and fervent,
Am still your trusty friend and servant.
But aiblins ye will grudge the trouble
Of reading sic low, hamert rhyme,
And sae it 's best to quat in time;
Sae I, with soul sincere and fervent,
Am still your trusty friend and servant.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |