Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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THE CADGER. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
182
THE CADGER.
The cadger, mounted on cuddy and sodds,
To shun a' the tolls, aye took through the muir roads;
Of poachers and smugglers he kenn'd the abodes,
For in geography skill'd was the cadger.
Though nearly threescore, he was supple and stark,
As fresh as a trout, and as blithe as a lark;
As wily's a fox, whether daylight or dark,
He could bilk either beagle or gauger.
To shun a' the tolls, aye took through the muir roads;
Of poachers and smugglers he kenn'd the abodes,
For in geography skill'd was the cadger.
Though nearly threescore, he was supple and stark,
As fresh as a trout, and as blithe as a lark;
As wily's a fox, whether daylight or dark,
He could bilk either beagle or gauger.
The cadger was eident, ne'er sluggish nor slack
To rack out a penny frae bodle or plack;
His purse was weel stow'd, and weel clad was his back;
Sae baith mensefu' and bien was the cadger.
He twenty lang summers admired the ash trees
That waved round the dwellin' o' Mirren Braidlees;
Yet ne'er durst he hint o' her coffer'd bawbees,
For Mirren was shy as a badger.
To rack out a penny frae bodle or plack;
His purse was weel stow'd, and weel clad was his back;
Sae baith mensefu' and bien was the cadger.
He twenty lang summers admired the ash trees
That waved round the dwellin' o' Mirren Braidlees;
Yet ne'er durst he hint o' her coffer'd bawbees,
For Mirren was shy as a badger.
The sun had for thirty times come north the line
Since Mirren did first for a half-marrow pine;
But ne'er, till the last claucht o' hope she did tyne,
Did she e'er think o' weddin' a cadger.
Though the sages declare “that we see nothing new,”
Yet the pith o' this saw mony couldna see through;
E'en the dominie smiled, while his ink-cork he drew
To beuk Mirren Braidlees to a cadger.
Since Mirren did first for a half-marrow pine;
But ne'er, till the last claucht o' hope she did tyne,
Did she e'er think o' weddin' a cadger.
Though the sages declare “that we see nothing new,”
Yet the pith o' this saw mony couldna see through;
E'en the dominie smiled, while his ink-cork he drew
To beuk Mirren Braidlees to a cadger.
The cuddie he deck'd wi' a braw sprit-new saddle,
That day he set out to bid folk to the bridal;
Through bog, muir, and moss, whip and spur werena idle;
He rode as 'gainst time on a wager.
He was firmly intent ilka saul should be there
Wi' whom he had traffic in hen, duck, or hare,
Which brought on his roll the maist feck o' the shire:
Sic a rant was ne'er plann'd by a cadger.
That day he set out to bid folk to the bridal;
Through bog, muir, and moss, whip and spur werena idle;
He rode as 'gainst time on a wager.
He was firmly intent ilka saul should be there
Wi' whom he had traffic in hen, duck, or hare,
Which brought on his roll the maist feck o' the shire:
Sic a rant was ne'er plann'd by a cadger.
But waefu' mishap brak sweet wedlock's bright spell;
The frosty east win' blew the drift sharp and snell,
Whilk gart him tak' howff in a smuggler's snug stell,
For the cuddy nae langer could budge her.
He was primely acquant wi' the mountain-dew core,
Baith bottles and bladders he'd fill'd there before,
Sae the swats circled quick, wi' guid-will, in galore,
To the health o' the bride and the cadger.
The frosty east win' blew the drift sharp and snell,
Whilk gart him tak' howff in a smuggler's snug stell,
For the cuddy nae langer could budge her.
183
Baith bottles and bladders he'd fill'd there before,
Sae the swats circled quick, wi' guid-will, in galore,
To the health o' the bride and the cadger.
The pith o' the maut, and the toils o' the day,
Wintled Robin clean owre 'mang the rashes and hay,
To hiccup and snore, as he vanquish'd thus lay,
A hapless and helpless nicht lodger.
The moon, shining clear, now display'd, 'mang the whins,
The flickerin' gleam o' baith bay'nets and guns;
Sae for safety, in terror, ilk smuggler aff runs,
Leaving fate to tak' tent o' the cadger.
Wintled Robin clean owre 'mang the rashes and hay,
To hiccup and snore, as he vanquish'd thus lay,
A hapless and helpless nicht lodger.
The moon, shining clear, now display'd, 'mang the whins,
The flickerin' gleam o' baith bay'nets and guns;
Sae for safety, in terror, ilk smuggler aff runs,
Leaving fate to tak' tent o' the cadger.
Straucht aff, like a traitor, they trail'd in a cart
The bridegroom to bridewell, for twal months to smart,
Which brak up the bridal, and brak down his heart,
That, for steel, could ha'e sairt a drum-major.
Debarr'd now frae poachers, and smugglers, and stills,
Frae fresh braken glens, and frae red heather hills,
The staunchers and cells, wi' their thousands o' ills,
Made a sad total wreck o' the cadger.
The bridegroom to bridewell, for twal months to smart,
Which brak up the bridal, and brak down his heart,
That, for steel, could ha'e sairt a drum-major.
Debarr'd now frae poachers, and smugglers, and stills,
Frae fresh braken glens, and frae red heather hills,
The staunchers and cells, wi' their thousands o' ills,
Made a sad total wreck o' the cadger.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |