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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AULD JOHN PAUL.
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
84
AULD JOHN PAUL.
Auld John Paul was nae lazy man,
And auld John Paul was nae crazy man;
Though his haffits were white, and his noddle was baul',
Yet a slee, funny joker, was auld John Paul.
Auld John Paul had a widower been
For towmonds, they said, about twal or threteen;
Yet it lap in his head—though I'm now turnin' aul',
I may yet get a help-meet, thinks auld John Paul.
And auld John Paul was nae crazy man;
Though his haffits were white, and his noddle was baul',
Yet a slee, funny joker, was auld John Paul.
Auld John Paul had a widower been
For towmonds, they said, about twal or threteen;
Yet it lap in his head—though I'm now turnin' aul',
I may yet get a help-meet, thinks auld John Paul.
Sae he daunnert down to Nanse M'Nee's,
Wha keepit the sign o' the gowd cross-keys;
A cantie widow, baith stout and hale,
Wha had saved a bit trifle by sellin' ale.
Sae he ca'd for a dram, and begoud to crack,
And syne about wedlock a joke he brake,
While the kimmer she leuch, and said, sooth, but ye'er baul';
Wad ye yet face the minister, auld John Paul?
Wha keepit the sign o' the gowd cross-keys;
A cantie widow, baith stout and hale,
Wha had saved a bit trifle by sellin' ale.
Sae he ca'd for a dram, and begoud to crack,
And syne about wedlock a joke he brake,
While the kimmer she leuch, and said, sooth, but ye'er baul';
Wad ye yet face the minister, auld John Paul?
The kintra says ye're a douse auld man,
But I really think, John, ye're a crouse auld man,
Wha yet wad splice wi' anither wife,
When ye've sprauchilt sae far up the hill o' life.
Ye hae routh to keep ony wife bien, John Paul,
I'm redd ye'se get ane at fifteen, John Paul;
To look on your spunk, it's new life to the saul—
You're the flower o' the clachan yoursel', John Paul!
But I really think, John, ye're a crouse auld man,
Wha yet wad splice wi' anither wife,
When ye've sprauchilt sae far up the hill o' life.
Ye hae routh to keep ony wife bien, John Paul,
I'm redd ye'se get ane at fifteen, John Paul;
To look on your spunk, it's new life to the saul—
You're the flower o' the clachan yoursel', John Paul!
Nae glaiget young jillet for me, quo' John;
Though I ha'e a billet for thee, quo' John;
Gin the smith ye'll discard, wi' his lang sooty beard,
Ye'se my siller get ilka bawbee, quo' John.
And nae mair wi' the souter ye'll fash, quo' John,
For he's drucken ilk plack o' his cash, quo' John;
And the miller's gane through a' his mailin, I trow,
And, forbye, he's a daft gomrel hash, quo' John.
Though I ha'e a billet for thee, quo' John;
Gin the smith ye'll discard, wi' his lang sooty beard,
Ye'se my siller get ilka bawbee, quo' John.
And nae mair wi' the souter ye'll fash, quo' John,
For he's drucken ilk plack o' his cash, quo' John;
And the miller's gane through a' his mailin, I trow,
And, forbye, he's a daft gomrel hash, quo' John.
But the beadle cam' in roarin' fou to Nanse,
Sayin', John Paul, what want ye now wi' Nanse?
Ye had better gae beek at your ain ingle cheek,
For I've offered mysel' afore you to Nanse.
It's a wonner to look at auld fools, John Paul,
Wha maun soon hurkel down 'mang the mools, John Paul;
Soon the divots will sward owre your head in my yaird,
Whan I've happit you up wi' my shools, John Paul.
Sayin', John Paul, what want ye now wi' Nanse?
85
For I've offered mysel' afore you to Nanse.
It's a wonner to look at auld fools, John Paul,
Wha maun soon hurkel down 'mang the mools, John Paul;
Soon the divots will sward owre your head in my yaird,
Whan I've happit you up wi' my shools, John Paul.
Confound your ill-breedin', gae out, quo' Nanse,
Or the tangs I'se bring owre your lang snout, quo' Nanse,
Ye'll come in here to scaul', and to kick up a brawl!
Will ye e'er be a man like John Paul, quo' Nanse.
Sae the beadle did swagger out ragin' mad,
Misca'in the alewife for a' that was bad;
While the neebours assembled to witness the brawl,
Sayin' wha wad hae thought this o' auld John Paul?
Or the tangs I'se bring owre your lang snout, quo' Nanse,
Ye'll come in here to scaul', and to kick up a brawl!
Will ye e'er be a man like John Paul, quo' Nanse.
Sae the beadle did swagger out ragin' mad,
Misca'in the alewife for a' that was bad;
While the neebours assembled to witness the brawl,
Sayin' wha wad hae thought this o' auld John Paul?
We've a sad mishanter met, quo' John,
We'll the clachan's banter get, quo' John;
That bletherin' fool, wi' his shools, and his mools,
Will be, aiblins, the first to cry dool, quo' John.
But the clerk we can get in a blink, quo' John,
Wi' his paper, his pen, and his ink, quo' John;
And niest Sunday, I say, we'll cry thrice i' ae day,
And gie the hale billies a jink, quo' John.
We'll the clachan's banter get, quo' John;
That bletherin' fool, wi' his shools, and his mools,
Will be, aiblins, the first to cry dool, quo' John.
But the clerk we can get in a blink, quo' John,
Wi' his paper, his pen, and his ink, quo' John;
And niest Sunday, I say, we'll cry thrice i' ae day,
And gie the hale billies a jink, quo' John.
Quo' Nanse, ye've my consent, John Paul,
To wed ye, I'm content, John Paul;
But first, let's get a man o' law,
To bin' the langest liver a'.
Content! quo' John, a bargain be't,
Come, gies your han' and say we're greet!
Rab Snap the contract soon will scrawl,
'Tween Nanse M'Nees and auld John Paul.
To wed ye, I'm content, John Paul;
But first, let's get a man o' law,
To bin' the langest liver a'.
Content! quo' John, a bargain be't,
Come, gies your han' and say we're greet!
Rab Snap the contract soon will scrawl,
'Tween Nanse M'Nees and auld John Paul.
Sae they were cried, and buckled syne;
The weddin' was a special shine;
Saxscore o' neebours, young and aul',
Ate, drank, and danced wi' auld John Paul.
They ranted and sang till the day did daw',
Ere ane o' the guests thought o' gaun awa;
And the fiddler swore nane shook a suppler spaul
On the floor, the hale night, than did auld John Paul,
The weddin' was a special shine;
Saxscore o' neebours, young and aul',
Ate, drank, and danced wi' auld John Paul.
They ranted and sang till the day did daw',
Ere ane o' the guests thought o' gaun awa;
And the fiddler swore nane shook a suppler spaul
On the floor, the hale night, than did auld John Paul,
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |