The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill With biography, illustrations, and music |
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COME HAME TO YOUR LINGELS.
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 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
64
COME HAME TO YOUR LINGELS.
“Come hame to your lingels, you ne'er-do-weel loon,
You're the king of the dyvours, the talk of the town;
Sae soon as the Munonday morning comes in,
Your wearifu' daidling again maun begin.”
“Gudewife, ye 're a skillet, your tongue's just a bell,
To the peace o' guid fallows it rings the death-knell;
But clack till ye deafen auld Barnaby's mill,
The souter shall aye ha'e his Munonday's yill.”
You're the king of the dyvours, the talk of the town;
Sae soon as the Munonday morning comes in,
Your wearifu' daidling again maun begin.”
“Gudewife, ye 're a skillet, your tongue's just a bell,
To the peace o' guid fallows it rings the death-knell;
But clack till ye deafen auld Barnaby's mill,
The souter shall aye ha'e his Munonday's yill.”
[“Come hame to your lapstane, come hame to your last,
It 's a bonnie affair that your family maun fast,
While you and your crew here a-drinking maun sit,
Ye dazed, drunken, guid-for-nocht heir o' the pit:
Just look, how I 'm gaun without stocking or shoe,
Your bairns a' in tatters, and faitherless too,
And yet, quite content, like a sot, ye 'll sit still,
Till your kyte 's like to crack, wi' your Munonday's yill.”
It 's a bonnie affair that your family maun fast,
While you and your crew here a-drinking maun sit,
Ye dazed, drunken, guid-for-nocht heir o' the pit:
Just look, how I 'm gaun without stocking or shoe,
Your bairns a' in tatters, and faitherless too,
And yet, quite content, like a sot, ye 'll sit still,
Till your kyte 's like to crack, wi' your Munonday's yill.”
“I tell you, guidwife, gin ye haudna your clack,
I 'll lend you a reistle wi' this owre your back;
Maun we be abused and affronted by you
Wi' siccan foul names as loon, dyvour, and crew?”
“Come hame to your lingels, this instant come hame,
Or I 'll redden your face, gin ye 've yet ony shame;
For I 'll bring a' the bairns, and we 'll just ha'e our fill,
As weel as yoursel', o' your Munonday's yill.”
I 'll lend you a reistle wi' this owre your back;
Maun we be abused and affronted by you
Wi' siccan foul names as loon, dyvour, and crew?”
“Come hame to your lingels, this instant come hame,
Or I 'll redden your face, gin ye 've yet ony shame;
For I 'll bring a' the bairns, and we 'll just ha'e our fill,
As weel as yoursel', o' your Munonday's yill.”
“Gin that be the gait o't, sirs, come let us stir,
What need we sit here to be pestered by her?
For she 'll plague and affront us as far as she can:
Did ever a woman sae bother a man?
Frae yill-house to yill-house she 'll after us rin,
And raise the hail toun wi' her yelpin' and din;
Come! ca' the guidwife, bid her bring in the bill:
I see I maun quat takin' Munonday's yill.”
What need we sit here to be pestered by her?
For she 'll plague and affront us as far as she can:
Did ever a woman sae bother a man?
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And raise the hail toun wi' her yelpin' and din;
Come! ca' the guidwife, bid her bring in the bill:
I see I maun quat takin' Munonday's yill.”
—A. R.]
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |