The Canongate Burns (92 page)

RECITATIVO

When lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
withered, ground

Or, wavering like the Bauckie-bird,
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        Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;
cold, the North Wind

When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
-stones, lash

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And infant Frosts begin to bite,

        In hoary cranreuch drest;
hoar frost

Ae night at e'en a merry core
one, evening, crowd

        O' randie, gangrel bodies,
disorderly vagrants

In Poosie-Nansie's
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held the splore,
merry meeting

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        To drink their orra duddies:
spare rags

                Wi' quaffing, and laughing,

                        They ranted an' they sang;

                Wi' jumping, an' thumping,

                        The vera girdle rang.
very, iron baking plate

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First, niest the fire, in auld red rags,
next, old

Ane sat; weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
one, well – oat meal

        And knapsack a' in order;

His doxy lay within his arm;
lassie

Wi' USQUEBAE an' blankets warm,
whisky

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        She blinket on her Sodger:
leered

An' ay he gies the tozie drab
gives, tipsy

        The tither skelpan kiss,
smacking

While she held up her greedy gab
mouth

        Just like an aumous dish:
wooden alms dish

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                Ilk smack still, did crack still,
each

                        Just like a cadger's whup;
beggar's whip

                Then swaggering, an' staggering,

                        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.

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                Lal de daudle, etc.

My Prenticeship I past, where my LEADER breath'd his last,

        When the bloody die was cast on the heights of ABRAM;
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And I served out my TRADE when the gallant
game
was play'd,

        And the MORO
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low was laid at the sound of the drum.

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I lastly was with Curtis
3
among the
floating batt'ries,

        And there I left for witness, an arm and a limb;

Yet let my Country need me, with ELLIOT
4
to head me

        I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of the drum.

And now tho' I must beg with a wooden arm and leg,

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        And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum,

I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my Callet,
lass

        As when I us'd 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,

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When the tother bag I sell and the tother bottle tell,

        I could meet a troop of HELL at the sound of a drum.

RECITATIVO

He ended; and the kebars sheuk,
rafters shook

        Aboon the chorus roar;
above

While frighted rattons backward leuk,
rats, look

        An' seek the benmost bore:
innermost hole

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A fairy FIDDLER frae the neuk,
corner

        He skirl'd out, ENCORE.

But up arose the martial CHUCK,
soldier's whore

        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 dadie,

No wonder I'm fond of a SODGER LADDIE.
soldier

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         Sing lal de dal, &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.

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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 prov'd false to my SODGER LADDIE.

Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified Sot,

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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 my old boy in a CUNNINGHAM Fair;

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His RAGS REGIMENTAL they flutter'd so gaudy:

My heart it rejoic'd at a SODGER LADDIE.

And now I have lived — I know not how long,

But still I can join in a cup and a song;

And whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,

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Here's to thee, MY HERO, MY SODGER LADDIE!

RECITATIVO

Poor Merry-Andrew in the neuk,
corner

        Sat guzzling wi' a Tinkler-hizzie;
-girl

They mind't na wha the chorus teuk,
not who

        Between themselves they were sae busy:

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At length wi' drink an' courting dizzy,

        He stoiter'd up an' made a face;
staggered

Then turn'd an' laid a smack on Grizzie,
kiss

        Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace —
then

Air – Tune:
auld s ir symon

Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou;
drunk

       Sir Knave is a fool in a Session,

He 's there but a prentice, I trow,
trust/know

       But I am a fool by profession.

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My Grannie she bought me a beuk,
book

       An' I held awa to the school;
away

I fear I my talent misteuk,
mistook

       But what will ye hae of a fool.
have

For drink I wad venture my neck;
would

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       A hizzie 's the half of my Craft:
wench

But what could ye other expect

       Of ane that's avowedly daft.
one, half-witted

I ance was ty'd up like a stirk
once, tied, bullock

       For civilly swearing and quaffing;

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I ance was abus'd i' the kirk,
once

       For towsing a lass i' my daffin.
touching up, fun

Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport,

       Let nae body name wi' a jeer;
nobody

There's even, I'm tauld, i' the Court
told

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       A Tumbler ca'd the Premier.
called
 

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.

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And now my conclusion I'll tell,

       For faith I'm confoundedly dry:

The chiel that's a fool for himsel,
fellow

       Guid Lord, he's far dafter than I.

RECITATIVO

Then niest outspak a raucle Carlin,
next, sturdy woman

Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the Sterlin;
who knew well, steal money

For mony a pursie she had hooked,
many

An' had in mony a well been douked:
many, ducked

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Her LOVE had been a HIGHLAND

    LADDIE,

But weary fa' the waefu' woodie!
fall, woeful gallows

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;
lowland

But he still was faithfu' to his clan,

My gallant, braw JOHN HIGHLANDMAN.
fine

Chorus

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       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,
kilt

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An' guid Claymore down by his side,
good broadsword

The ladies' hearts he did trepan,
ensnare

My gallant, braw John Highlandman.

       Sing hey my braw &c.

We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey,

An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay:

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For a lalland face he feared none,
lowland

My gallant, braw John Highlandman.

       Sing hey my braw &c.

They banish'd him beyond the sea,

But ere the bud was on the tree,

Adown my cheeks the pearls ran,

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Embracing my John Highlandman.

       Sing hey my braw &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 my braw &c.

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And now a Widow I must mourn

The Pleasures that will ne'er return;

No comfort but a hearty can,

When I think on John Highlandman.

       Sing hey my braw &c.

RECITATIVO

A pigmy Scraper wi' his Fiddle,

Wha us'd to trystes an' fairs to driddle,
cattle market, play

Her strappan limb an' gausy middle,
strong, buxom

       (He reach'd nae higher)
no

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Had hol'd his HEARTIE like a riddle,
sieve

       An' blawn't on fire.
blown it

Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e,
haunch

He croon'd his gamut, ONE, TWO, THREE,
whispered

Then in an ARIOSO key,
melodious

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       The wee Apollo

Set off wi' ALLEGRETTO glee
paced but graceful

       His GIGA SOLO — 

Air Tune:
whistle owre the lave o't

Let me ryke up to dight that tear,
reach, wipe

An' go wi' me an' be my DEAR;

An' then your every CARE an' FEAR

       May whistle owre the lave o't.
over, remainder
 

Chorus

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       I am a Fiddler to my trade,

       An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd,

       The sweetest still to WIFE or MAID

       Was Whistle Owre the Lave O't.

At KIRNS an' WEDDINS we'se be there,
harvest homes

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An' O sae nicely's we will fare!
so

We'll bowse about till Dadie Care
booze/drink

Sing Whistle Owre the Lave O't.

       I am a &c.

Sae merrily the banes we'll pyke,
so, bones, pick

An' sun oursells about the dyke;
stone wall

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An' at our leisure, when ye like

We'll whistle owre the lave o't.

       I am a &c.

But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,

An' while I kittle hair on thairms,
move bow-hair, catgut

HUNGER, CAULD, an' a' sic harms
cold, such

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May whistle owre the lave o't.

       I am a &c.

RECITATIVO

Her charms had struck a sturdy CAIRD,
gypsy

       As weel as poor GUTSCRAPER;
well, fiddler

He taks the Fiddler by the beard,

       An' draws a roosty rapier —
rusty sword

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He swoor by a' was swearing worth
swore

       To speet him like a Pliver,
spit, plover

Unless he would from that time forth

       Relinquish her for ever: