第10章 1785(3)
Amang the bonie winding banks,Where Doon rins,wimplin,clear;Where Bruce^4ance rul'd the martial ranks,An'shook his Carrick spear;Some merry,friendly,countra-folks Together did convene,To burn their nits,an'pou their stocks,An'haud their Halloween Fu'blythe that night.
[Footnote 4:The famous family of that name,the ancestors of Robert,the great deliverer of his country,were Earls of Carrick.-R.B.]
The lasses feat,an'cleanly neat,Mair braw than when they're fine;Their faces blythe,fu'sweetly kythe,Hearts leal,an'warm,an'kin':
The lads sae trig,wi'wooer-babs Weel-knotted on their garten;Some unco blate,an'some wi'gabs Gar lasses'hearts gang startin Whiles fast at night.
Then,first an'foremost,thro'the kail,Their stocks^5maun a'be sought ance;[Footnote 5:The first ceremony of Halloween is pulling each a "stock,"or plant of kail.They must go out,hand in hand,with eyes shut,and pull the first they meet with:its being big or little,straight or crooked,is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells-the husband or wife.If any "yird,"or earth,stick to the root,that is "tocher,"or fortune;and the taste of the "custock,"that is,the heart of the stem,is indicative of the natural temper and disposition.Lastly,the stems,or,to give them their ordinary appellation,the "runts,"are placed somewhere above the head of the door;and the Christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house are,according to the priority of placing the "runts,"the names in question.-R.B.]
They steek their een,and grape an'wale For muckle anes,an'straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,An'wandered thro'the bow-kail,An'pou't for want o'better shift A runt was like a sow-tail Sae bow't that night.
Then,straught or crooked,yird or nane,They roar an'cry a'throu'ther;The vera wee-things,toddlin,rin,Wi'stocks out owre their shouther:
An'gif the custock's sweet or sour,Wi'joctelegs they taste them;Syne coziely,aboon the door,Wi'cannie care,they've plac'd them To lie that night.
The lassies staw frae 'mang them a',To pou their stalks o'corn;^6But Rab slips out,an'jinks about,Behint the muckle thorn:
He grippit Nelly hard and fast:
Loud skirl'd a'the lasses;
But her tap-pickle maist was lost,Whan kiutlin in the fause-house^7Wi'him that night.
[Footnote 6:They go to the barnyard,and pull each,at three different times,a stalk of oats.If the third stalk wants the "top-pickle,"that is,the grain at the top of the stalk,the party in question will come to the marriage-bed anything but a maid.-R.B.]
[Footnote 7:When the corn is in a doubtful state,by being too green or wet,the stack-builder,by means of old timber,etc.,makes a large apartment in his stack,with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind:
this he calls a "fause-house."-R.B.]
The auld guid-wife's weel-hoordit nits^8
Are round an'round dividend,An'mony lads an'lasses'fates Are there that night decided:
Some kindle couthie side by side,And burn thegither trimly;Some start awa wi'saucy pride,An'jump out owre the chimlie Fu'high that night.
[Footnote 8:Burning the nuts is a favorite charm.They name the lad and lass to each particular nut,as they lay them in the fire;and according as they burn quietly together,or start from beside one another,the course and issue of the courtship will be.-R.B.]
Jean slips in twa,wi'tentie e'e;
Wha 'twas,she wadna tell;
But this is Jock,an'this is me,She says in to hersel':
He bleez'd owre her,an'she owre him,As they wad never mair part:
Till fuff!he started up the lum,An'Jean had e'en a sair heart To see't that night.
Poor Willie,wi'his bow-kail runt,Was brunt wi'primsie Mallie;An'Mary,nae doubt,took the drunt,To be compar'd to Willie:
Mall's nit lap out,wi'pridefu'fling,An'her ain fit,it brunt it;While Willie lap,and swore by jing,'Twas just the way he wanted To be that night.
Nell had the fause-house in her min',She pits hersel an'Rob in;In loving bleeze they sweetly join,Till white in ase they're sobbin:
Nell's heart was dancin at the view;
She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
Rob,stownlins,prie'd her bonie mou',Fu'cozie in the neuk for't,Unseen that night.
But Merran sat behint their backs,Her thoughts on Andrew Bell:
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,An'slips out-by hersel';She thro'the yard the nearest taks,An'for the kiln she goes then,An'darklins grapit for the bauks,And in the blue-clue^9throws then,Right fear't that night.
[Footnote 9:Whoever would,with success,try this spell,must strictly observe these directions:Steal out,all alone,to the kiln,and darkling,throw into the "pot"a clue of blue yarn;wind it in a new clue off the old one;and,toward the latter end,something will hold the thread:demand,"Wha hauds?"i.e.,who holds?and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot,by naming the Christian and surname of your future spouse.-R.B.]
An'ay she win't,an'ay she swat-
I wat she made nae jaukin;
Till something held within the pat,Good Lord!but she was quaukin!
But whether 'twas the deil himsel,Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',Or whether it was Andrew Bell,She did na wait on talkin To spier that night.
Wee Jenny to her graunie says,"Will ye go wi'me,graunie?
I'll eat the apple at the glass,^10
I gat frae uncle Johnie:"
She fuff't her pipe wi'sic a lunt,In wrath she was sae vap'rin,She notic't na an aizle brunt Her braw,new,worset apron Out thro'that night.
[Footnote 10:Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass;eat an apple before it,and some traditions say you should comb your hair all the time;the face of your conjungal companion,to be,will be seen in the glass,as if peeping over your shoulder.-R.B.]
"Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
I daur you try sic sportin,As seek the foul thief ony place,For him to spae your fortune:
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For mony a ane has gotten a fright,An'liv'd an'died deleerit,On sic a night.
"Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,I mind't as weel's yestreen-I was a gilpey then,I'm sure I was na past fyfteen:
The simmer had been cauld an'wat,An'stuff was unco green;An'eye a rantin kirn we gat,An'just on Halloween It fell that night.
"Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,A clever,sturdy fallow;His sin gat Eppie Sim wi'wean,That lived in Achmacalla:
He gat hemp-seed,^11I mind it weel,An'he made unco light o't;But mony a day was by himsel',He was sae sairly frighted That vera night."[Footnote 11:Steal out,unperceived,and sow a handful of hemp-seed,harrowing it with anything you can conveniently draw after you.Repeat now and then:"Hemp-seed,I saw thee,hemp-seed,I saw thee;and him (or her)that is to be my true love,come after me and pou thee."Look over your left shoulder,and you will see the appearance of the person invoked,in the attitude of pulling hemp.Some traditions say,"Come after me and shaw thee,"that is,show thyself;in which case,it simply appears.Others omit the harrowing,and say:"Come after me and harrow thee."-R.B.]
Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck,An'he swoor by his conscience,That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;For it was a'but nonsense:
The auld guidman raught down the pock,An'out a handfu'gied him;Syne bad him slip frae'mang the folk,Sometime when nae ane see'd him,An'try't that night.
He marches thro'amang the stacks,Tho'he was something sturtin;The graip he for a harrow taks,An'haurls at his curpin:
And ev'ry now an'then,he says,"Hemp-seed I saw thee,An'her that is to be my lass Come after me,an'draw thee As fast this night."He wistl'd up Lord Lennox'March To keep his courage cherry;Altho'his hair began to arch,He was sae fley'd an'eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,An'then a grane an'gruntle;He by his shouther gae a keek,An'tumbled wi'a wintle Out-owre that night.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,In dreadfu'desperation!
An'young an'auld come rinnin out,An'hear the sad narration:
He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,Or crouchie Merran Humphie-Till stop!she trotted thro'them a';
And wha was it but grumphie Asteer that night!
Meg fain wad to the barn gaen,To winn three wechts o'naething;^12But for to meet the deil her lane,She pat but little faith in:
[Footnote 12:This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone.You go to the barn,and open both doors,taking them off the hinges,if possible;for there is danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors,and do you some mischief.Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn,which in our country dialect we call a "wecht,"and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind.Repeat it three times,and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn,in at the windy door and out at the other,having both the figure in question,and the appearance or retinue,marking the employment or station in life.-R.B.]
She gies the herd a pickle nits,An'twa red cheekit apples,To watch,while for the barn she sets,In hopes to see Tam Kipples That vera night.
She turns the key wi'cannie thraw,An'owre the threshold ventures;But first on Sawnie gies a ca',Syne baudly in she enters:
A ratton rattl'd up the wa',An'she cry'd Lord preserve her!
An'ran thro'midden-hole an'a',An'pray'd wi'zeal and fervour,Fu'fast that night.
They hoy't out Will,wi'sair advice;
They hecht him some fine braw ane;
It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice^13Was timmer-propt for thrawin:
He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak For some black,grousome carlin;An'loot a winze,an'drew a stroke,Till skin in blypes cam haurlin Aff's nieves that night.
[Footnote 13:Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a "bear-stack,"and fathom it three times round.The last fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.-R.B.]
A wanton widow Leezie was,As cantie as a kittlen;But och!that night,amang the shaws,She gat a fearfu'settlin!
She thro'the whins,an'by the cairn,An'owre the hill gaed scrievin;Whare three lairds'lan's met at a burn,^14To dip her left sark-sleeve in,Was bent that night.
[Footnote 14:You go out,one or more (for this is a social spell),to a south running spring,or rivulet,where "three lairds'lands meet,"and dip your left shirt sleeve.Go to bed in sight of a fire,and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry.Lie awake,and,some time near midnight,an apparition,having the exact figure of the grand object in question,will come and turn the sleeve,as if to dry the other side of it.-R.B.]
Whiles owre a linn the burnie plays,As thro'the glen it wimpl't;Whiles round a rocky scar it strays,Whiles in a wiel it dimpl't;Whiles glitter'd to the nightly rays,Wi'bickerin',dancin'dazzle;Whiles cookit undeneath the braes,Below the spreading hazel Unseen that night.
Amang the brachens,on the brae,Between her an'the moon,The deil,or else an outler quey,Gat up an'ga'e a croon:
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav'rock-height she jumpit,But mist a fit,an'in the pool Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,Wi'a plunge that night.
In order,on the clean hearth-stane,The luggies^15three are ranged;An'ev'ry time great care is ta'en To see them duly changed:
Auld uncle John,wha wedlock's joys Sin'Mar's-year did desire,Because he gat the toom dish thrice,He heav'd them on the fire In wrath that night.
[Footnote 15:Take three dishes,put clean water in one,foul water in another,and leave the third empty;blindfold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged;he (or she)dips the left hand;if by chance in the clean water,the future (husband or)wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid;if in the foul,a widow;if in the empty dish,it foretells,with equal certainty,no marriage at all.It is repeated three times,and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.-R.B.]
Wi'merry sangs,an'friendly cracks,I wat they did na weary;And unco tales,an'funnie jokes-
Their sports were cheap an'cheery:
Till butter'd sowens,^16wi'fragrant lunt,[Footnote 16:Sowens,with butter instead of milk to them,is always the Halloween Supper.-R.B.]
Set a'their gabs a-steerin;
Syne,wi'a social glass o'strunt,They parted aff careerin Fu'blythe that night.
To A Mouse,On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough,November,1785Wee,sleekit,cow'rin,tim'rous beastie,O,what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,Wi'bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an'chase thee,Wi'murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion,Has broken nature's social union,An'justifies that ill opinion,Which makes thee startle At me,thy poor,earth-born companion,An'fellow-mortal!
I doubt na,whiles,but thou may thieve;
What then?poor beastie,thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma'request;I'll get a blessin wi'the lave,An'never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie,too,in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An'naething,now,to big a new ane,O'foggage green!
An'bleak December's winds ensuin,Baith snell an'keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an'waste,An'weary winter comin fast,An'cozie here,beneath the blast,Thou thought to dwell-Till crash!the cruel coulter past Out thro'thy cell.
That wee bit heap o'leaves an'stibble,Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out,for a'thy trouble,But house or hald,To thole the winter's sleety dribble,An'cranreuch cauld!
But,Mousie,thou art no thy lane,In proving foresight may be vain;The best-laid schemes o'mice an 'men Gang aft agley,An'lea'e us nought but grief an'pain,For promis'd joy!
Still thou art blest,compar'd wi'me The present only toucheth thee:
But,Och!I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An'forward,tho'I canna see,I guess an'fear!
Epitaph On John Dove,Innkeeper Here lies Johnie Pigeon;What was his religion?
Whae'er desires to ken,To some other warl'
Maun follow the carl,For here Johnie Pigeon had nane!
Strong ale was ablution,Small beer persecution,A dram was memento mori;But a full-flowing bowl Was the saving his soul,And port was celestial glory.
Epitaph For James Smith Lament him,Mauchline husbands a',He aften did assist ye;For had ye staid hale weeks awa,Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye.
Ye Mauchline bairns,as on ye press To school in bands thegither,O tread ye lightly on his grass,-Perhaps he was your father!
Adam Armour's Prayer Gude pity me,because I'm little!
For though I am an elf o'mettle,An'can,like ony wabster's shuttle,Jink there or here,Yet,scarce as lang's a gude kail-whittle,I'm unco queer.
An'now Thou kens our waefu'case;
For Geordie's jurr we're in disgrace,Because we stang'd her through the place,An'hurt her spleuchan;For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan.
An'now we're dern'd in dens and hollows,And hunted,as was William Wallace,Wi'constables-thae blackguard fallows,An'sodgers baith;But Gude preserve us frae the gallows,That shamefu'death!
Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel'-
O shake him owre the mouth o'hell!
There let him hing,an'roar,an'yell Wi'hideous din,And if he offers to rebel,Then heave him in.
When Death comes in wi'glimmerin blink,An'tips auld drucken Nanse the wink,May Sautan gie her doup a clink Within his yett,An'fill her up wi'brimstone drink,Red-reekin het.
Though Jock an'hav'rel Jean are merry-
Some devil seize them in a hurry,An'waft them in th'infernal wherry Straught through the lake,An'gie their hides a noble curry Wi'oil of aik!
As for the jurr-puir worthless body!
She's got mischief enough already;
Wi'stanged hips,and buttocks bluidy She's suffer'd sair;But,may she wintle in a woody,If she wh-e mair!
The Jolly Beggars:A Cantata^1
[Footnote 1:Not published by Burns.]
Recitativo When lyart leaves bestrow the yird,Or wavering like the bauckie-bird,Bedim cauld Boreas'blast;When hailstanes drive wi'bitter skyte,And infant frosts begin to bite,In hoary cranreuch drest;Ae night at e'en a merry core O'randie,gangrel bodies,In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,To drink their orra duddies;Wi'quaffing an'laughing,They ranted an'they sang,Wi'jumping an'thumping,The vera girdle rang,First,neist the fire,in auld red rags,Ane sat,weel brac'd wi'mealy bags,And knapsack a'in order;His doxy lay within his arm;
Wi'usquebae an'blankets warm She blinkit on her sodger;An'aye he gies the tozie drab The tither skelpin'kiss,While she held up her greedy gab,Just like an aumous dish;Ilk smack still,did crack still,Just like a cadger's whip;Then staggering an'swaggering He roar'd this ditty up-Air Tune-"Soldier's Joy."
I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars,And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;This here was for a wench,and that other in a trench,When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle,&c.
My 'prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd his last,When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram:
and I served out my trade when the gallant game was play'd,And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt'ries,And there I left for witness an arm and a limb;Yet let my country need me,with Elliot to head me,I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.
And now tho'I must beg,with a wooden arm and leg,And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum,I'm as happy with my wallet,my bottle,and my callet,As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum.
What tho'with hoary locks,I must stand the winter shocks,Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home,When the t'other bag I sell,and the t'other bottle tell,I could meet a troop of hell,at the sound of a drum.
Recitativo He ended;and the kebars sheuk,Aboon the chorus roar;While frighted rattons backward leuk,An'seek the benmost bore:
A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,He skirl'd out,encore!
But up arose the martial chuck,An'laid the loud uproar.
Air Tune-"Sodger Laddie."
I once was a maid,tho'I cannot tell when,And still my delight is in proper young men;Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie,No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie,Sing,lal de lal,&c.
The first of my loves was a swaggering blade,To rattle the thundering drum was his trade;His leg was so tight,and his cheek was so ruddy,Transported I was with my sodger laddie.
But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch;The sword I forsook for the sake of the church:
He ventur'd the soul,and I risked the body,'Twas then I proved false to my sodger laddie.
Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot,The regiment at large for a husband I got;From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,I asked no more but a sodger laddie.
But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair,Till I met old boy in a Cunningham fair,His rags regimental,they flutter'd so gaudy,My heart it rejoic'd at a sodger laddie.
And now I have liv'd-I know not how long,And still I can join in a cup and a song;But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,Here's to thee,my hero,my sodger laddie.
Recitativo Poor Merry-Andrew,in the neuk,Sat guzzling wi'a tinkler-hizzie;They mind't na wha the chorus teuk,Between themselves they were sae busy:
At length,wi'drink an'courting dizzy,He stoiter'd up an'made a face;Then turn'd an'laid a smack on Grizzie,Syne tun'd his pipes wi'grave grimace.
Air Tune-"Auld Sir Symon."
Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou;
Sir Knave is a fool in a session;
He's there but a 'prentice I trow,But I am a fool by profession.
My grannie she bought me a beuk,An'I held awa to the school;I fear I my talent misteuk,But what will ye hae of a fool?
For drink I would venture my neck;
A hizzie's the half of my craft;
But what could ye other expect Of ane that's avowedly daft?
I ance was tied up like a stirk,For civilly swearing and quaffin;I ance was abus'd i'the kirk,For towsing a lass i'my daffin.
Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport,Let naebody name wi'a jeer;There's even,I'm tauld,i'the Court A tumbler ca'd the Premier.
Observ'd ye yon reverend lad Mak faces to tickle the mob;He rails at our mountebank squad,-
It's rivalship just i'the job.
And now my conclusion I'll tell,For faith I'm confoundedly dry;The chiel that's a fool for himsel',Guid Lord!he's far dafter than I.
Recitativo Then niest outspak a raucle carlin,Wha kent fu'weel to cleek the sterlin;For mony a pursie she had hooked,An'had in mony a well been douked;Her love had been a Highland laddie,But weary fa'the waefu'woodie!
Wi'sighs an'sobs she thus began To wail her braw John Highlandman.
Air Tune-"O,an ye were dead,Guidman."A Highland lad my love was born,The Lalland laws he held in scorn;But he still was faithfu'to his clan,My gallant,braw John Highlandman.
Chorus Sing hey my braw John Highlandman!
Sing ho my braw John Highlandman!
There's not a lad in a'the lan'
Was match for my John Highlandman.
With his philibeg an'tartan plaid,An'guid claymore down by his side,The ladies'hearts he did trepan,My gallant,braw John Highlandman.
Sing hey,&c.
We ranged a'from Tweed to Spey,An'liv'd like lords an'ladies gay;For a Lalland face he feared none,-
My gallant,braw John Highlandman.
Sing hey,&c.
They banish'd him beyond the sea.
But ere the bud was on the tree,Adown my cheeks the pearls ran,Embracing my John Highlandman.
Sing hey,&c.
But,och!they catch'd him at the last,And bound him in a dungeon fast:
My curse upon them every one,They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman!
Sing hey,&c.
And now a widow,I must mourn The pleasures that will ne'er return:
The comfort but a hearty can,When I think on John Highlandman.
Sing hey,&c.
Recitativo A pigmy scraper wi'his fiddle,Wha us'd at trystes an'fairs to driddle.
Her strappin limb and gausy middle (He reach'd nae higher)Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle,An'blawn't on fire.
Wi'hand on hainch,and upward e'e,He croon'd his gamut,one,two,three,Then in an arioso key,The wee Apoll Set off wi'allegretto glee His giga solo.
Air Tune-"Whistle owre the lave o't."
Let me ryke up to dight that tear,An'go wi'me an'be my dear;An'then your every care an'fear May whistle owre the lave o't.
Chorus I am a fiddler to my trade,An'a'the tunes that e'er I played,The sweetest still to wife or maid,Was whistle owre the lave o't.
At kirns an'weddins we'se be there,An'O sae nicely's we will fare!
We'll bowse about till Daddie Care Sing whistle owre the lave o't.