 | Poems and Songs, Humorous and Satirical |  |
60
HIGHLAND POLITICIANS.
Come, Tougall, tell me what you'll thocht
Apout this Bill Reform, man,
Tat's preeding sic a muckle steer,
An' like to raise ta storm, man;
For noo ta peoples meet in troves,
On both sides o' ta Tweed, man,
An' spoket speechums loud an' lang,
An' very pauld inteed, man.
Apout this Bill Reform, man,
Tat's preeding sic a muckle steer,
An' like to raise ta storm, man;
For noo ta peoples meet in troves,
On both sides o' ta Tweed, man,
An' spoket speechums loud an' lang,
An' very pauld inteed, man.
'Teed, Tonald, lad, she'll no pe ken,
For she's nae politish, man,
But for their speechums loud an' lang,
She wadna gie tat sneesh, man;
For gin she'll thocht ta thing was richt,
She wad her beetock traw, man,
An' feught like tamn—till ance ta Bill
Was made coot Cospel law, man.
For she's nae politish, man,
But for their speechums loud an' lang,
She wadna gie tat sneesh, man;
For gin she'll thocht ta thing was richt,
She wad her beetock traw, man,
An' feught like tamn—till ance ta Bill
Was made coot Cospel law, man.
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Hoot toot, man Tougall! tat micht do
When Shordie Twa did ring, man,
An' her fore-faiters trew ta tirk,
Ta mak teir Chairlie king, man;
But tirks, an' pistols, an' claymores,
Pe no for me nor you, man;
Tey'll a' pe out o' fashions gane
Since pluity Waterloo, man.
When Shordie Twa did ring, man,
An' her fore-faiters trew ta tirk,
Ta mak teir Chairlie king, man;
But tirks, an' pistols, an' claymores,
Pe no for me nor you, man;
Tey'll a' pe out o' fashions gane
Since pluity Waterloo, man.
Last nicht she'll went to pay her rent,
Ta laird gie her ta tram, man,
An' tell her tat this Bill Reform
Was shust a nonsense tamn, man!
Pe no for honest man's, she'll say,
Pe meddle 'ffairs o' State, man,
But leave those matters to him's Crace,
Him's Clory, an' ta great man.
Ta laird gie her ta tram, man,
An' tell her tat this Bill Reform
Was shust a nonsense tamn, man!
Pe no for honest man's, she'll say,
Pe meddle 'ffairs o' State, man,
But leave those matters to him's Crace,
Him's Clory, an' ta great man.
She'll talk 'pout Revolations, too,
Pe pad an' wicked thing, man,
Wad teuk awa ta 'stinctions a',
Frae peggar down to king, man.
Nae doubts, nae doubts, her nainsel said,
But yet tere's something worse, man;
Ta Revolations tat will teuk
Ta puir man's cow nor horse, man.
Pe pad an' wicked thing, man,
Wad teuk awa ta 'stinctions a',
Frae peggar down to king, man.
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But yet tere's something worse, man;
Ta Revolations tat will teuk
Ta puir man's cow nor horse, man.
An' ten she'll wish ta Ministers
Pe kicket frae teir place, man:
Och hon, och hon! her nainsel said,
Tat wad pe wofu' case, man;
For gin ta Ministers pe fa',
Precentors neist maun gang, man—
Syne wha wad in ta Punker stood,
An' lilt ta godly sang, man?
Pe kicket frae teir place, man:
Och hon, och hon! her nainsel said,
Tat wad pe wofu' case, man;
For gin ta Ministers pe fa',
Precentors neist maun gang, man—
Syne wha wad in ta Punker stood,
An' lilt ta godly sang, man?
Och! ten ta laird flee in a rage,
An' sinfu' diel me ca', man—
Me tell him no pe understood
What him will spoke ava, man;
Ta sinfu' diel!—na, na, she'll say,
She'll no pelang tat clan, man,
Hersel's a true an' trusty Grant,
As coot as 'nitter man, man.
An' sinfu' diel me ca', man—
Me tell him no pe understood
What him will spoke ava, man;
Ta sinfu' diel!—na, na, she'll say,
She'll no pelang tat clan, man,
Hersel's a true an' trusty Grant,
As coot as 'nitter man, man.
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But Tougall, lad! my 'pinion is,
An' tat she'll freely gie, man,
Ta laird pe fear tat this Reform
Will petter you an' me, man:
For like some ither lairds, she still
Wad ride upon our pack, man;
But fait! she'll maybe saw ta tay
Pe tell him 'nitter crack, man.
An' tat she'll freely gie, man,
Ta laird pe fear tat this Reform
Will petter you an' me, man:
For like some ither lairds, she still
Wad ride upon our pack, man;
But fait! she'll maybe saw ta tay
Pe tell him 'nitter crack, man.
For Shames ta feeter
say this Bill
Will mak' ta rents pe fa', man;
Pe mak' ta sneesh an' whisky cheap,
Ta gauger chase awa, man;
An' ne'er let lairds nor factors more
Pe do ta poor man's harm, man,
Nor purn him's house apoon him's head,
An' trive him aff ta farm, man.
Will mak' ta rents pe fa', man;
Pe mak' ta sneesh an' whisky cheap,
Ta gauger chase awa, man;
An' ne'er let lairds nor factors more
Pe do ta poor man's harm, man,
Nor purn him's house apoon him's head,
An' trive him aff ta farm, man.
Weel, Tonald! gin I'll thochtit that,
Reformer I will turn, man,
For wi' their 'pressions an' their scorns,
My very pluit will purn, man:
Och, shust to hae ta tay about,
Wi' some tat I will ken, man:
Tey'll prunt my house to please ta laird,
Cot! let them try't again, man!
Reformer I will turn, man,
For wi' their 'pressions an' their scorns,
My very pluit will purn, man:
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Wi' some tat I will ken, man:
Tey'll prunt my house to please ta laird,
Perhaps this passage can be best explained by those Lairds and Ladies in the County of Sutherland, and elsewhere, on whose estates some years ago depopulation and expatriation were carried on to such an extent as would have gladdened the heart of a very Malthus. Under this exterminating system hundreds of poor families were driven by force and violence from the homes which their fathers had occupied for centuries, and all to make room for a few large sheep farms.
Cot! let them try't again, man!
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