The Book of Scottish Poems: Ancient and Modern

Th' unwelcome miller gae a roar,

Cry'd, "Bessy, haste ye, ope the door."
Wi' that the holy letcher fled,
An' darn'd' himsel behint a bed;
While Bessy huddl'd a' things by,
That nought the cuckold might espy;
Syne loot him in,-but out of tune,
Speer'd why he left the mill sae soon:
"I come," said he, "as manners claims,
To crack an' wait on Master James,
Whilk I shou'd do, tho' ne'er sae bizzy ;
I sent him here, guidwife, where is he?"
'Ye sent him here," (quoth Bessy,
grumbling),

Whase kytes can streek' out like raw
plaiding?

Swith roast a hen or fry some chickens,
An' send for ale frae Maggy Pickens."
"Hout I," quoth she, "ye may weel ken,
'Tis ill brought butt that's na there ben;
When but last owk,2 nae farder gane,
The laird gat a' to pay his kain."3

Then James, wha had as guid a guess
O' what was in the house as Bess,
Wi' pawky smile, this plea to end,
To please himsel, an' ease his friend,
First open'd wi' a slee oration,
His wond'rous skill in conjuration.

"Kend I this James? A chiel2 cam rumb- Said he, By this fell art I'm able

ling;

But how was I assur'd, when dark,
That he had been nae thievish spark,
Or some rude wencher gotten a dose,
That a weak wife cou'd ill oppose?"
"An what cam o' him? speak nae langer,"
Cries Halbert, in a Highland anger.
"I sent him to the barn," quoth she:
"Gae quickly bring him in," quoth he.
James was brought in-the wife was
bawked-

To whop aff ony great man's table
Whate'er I like to mak a mail of,
Either in part or yet the hail of,
An' if ye please I'll shaw my art."
Cries Halbert, 'Faith, wi' a' my heart!"
Bess sain'd hersel,-cry'd "Lord be here!"
An' near-hand fell a-swoon for fear.
James leugh, an' bade her naithin dread,
Syne to his conj'ring went wi' speed:
An' first he draws a circle round,
Then utters many a magic sound

The priest stood close the miller O' words part Latin, Greek, an' Dutch,

Thus ilka sense he did conveen,
Lest glamour' had beguil'd his een ;
They all in ane united body,
Declar'd it a fine fat how towdy.2
'Nae mair about it," quoth the miller,
“The fowl looks weel, an' we'll fa' till
her."

Sae be't, says James; an' in a doup,
They snapt her up baith stoup an' roup.3
"Neist, O!" cries Halbert, "cou'd
your skill

But help us to a waught o' ale,
I'd be oblig'd t' ye a' my life,

An' offer to the deil my wife,

To see if he'll discreeter mak her,

But that I'm fleed he winna tak her."

Said James : Ye offer very fair,
The bargain's hadden, sae nae mair."
Then thrice he shook a willow-wand,
Wi' kittle 5 words thrice gave command;
That done, wi' look baith learn'd an' grave,
Said, "Now ye'll get what ye wad have;
Twa bottles o' as nappy liquor
As ever ream'd' in horn or bicker,
Behind the ark that hauds your meal,
Ye'll find twa standing corkit weel."
He said, an' fast the miller flew,
An' frae their nest the bottles drew;
Then first the scholar's health he toasted,
Whase art had gart him feed on roasted;
His father's neist,an' a' the rest
O' his guid friends that wish'd him best,
Which were o'er langsome at the time,
In a short tale to put in rhyme.

Thus, while the miller an' the youth
Were blythly slock'ning o' their drowth,
Bess, fretting, scarcely held frae greeting,
The priest inclos'd, stood vex'd an' sweat-
ing.

Dear Master James, wha brought our
chear?

Sic laits' appear to us sae awfu',
We hardly think your learning lawfu'."

"To bring your doubts to a conclusion,"
Says James, “ken I'm a Rosicrucian ;
Ane o' the set that never carries
On traffic wi' black deils or fairies;
There's mony a sp'rit that's no deil,
That constantly around us wheel.
There was a sage call'd Albumazor,
Whase wit was gleg 2 as ony razor:
Frae this great man we learn'd the skill
To bring these gentry to our will;
An' they appear, when we've a mind,
In ony shape o' human kind :
Now, if you'll drap your foolish fear,
I'll gar my Pacolet appear."
Hab fidg'd an' leugh, his elbuck clew,
Baith fear'd, an' fond a sp'rit to view :
At last his courage wan the day,
He to the scholar's will gae way.

Bessy be this began to smell
A rat, but kept her mind to'r sell :
She pray'd like howdy 3 in her drink,
But meantime tipt young James a wink.
James frae his eye an answer sent,
Which made the wife right weel content,
Then turn'd to Hab, an' thus advis'd :
"Whate'er you see, be nought surpriz'd,
But for your saul move not your tongue,
An' ready stand wi' a great rung; 4
Syne as the sp'rit gangs marching out,
Be sure to lend him a sound rout:
I bidna this by way o' mocking,
For nought delytes him mair than knock-
ing."

Hab got a kent 5-stood by the hallan,
An' straight the wild mischievous callan 6

"O wow!" said Hab, "if ane might Cries, Radamanthus Husky Mingo,

No like a deil in shape o' beast,
Wi' gaping chafts to fleg us a':
Wauk forth, the door stands to the wa'."
Then frae the hole where he was pent,
The priest approach'd right weel content;
Wi' silent pace strade o'er the floor,
Till he was drawing near the door;
Then to escape the cudgel ran,
But was nae miss'd by the guidman,
Wha lent him on the neck a lounder,'
That gart him o'er the threshold founder.
Darkness soon hid him frae their sight,
Ben flew the miller in a fright;
"I trow," quoth he, I laid weel on;
But, wow! he's like our ain Mess John!"

THE TWA CATS AND THE CHEESE.

TWA Cats ance on a Cheese did light,
To which baith had an equal right;
But disputes, sic as aft arise,
Fell out in sharing o' the prize.
Fair play, said ane, ye bite o'er thick,
Thae teeth o' your's gang wonder quick :
Let's part it, else, lang or the moon
Be chang'd, the kebbuck will be doon.
But wha's to do't?—They're parties baith,
An' ane may do the other skaith.
Sae wi' consent away they trudge,
An' laid the Cheese before a judge:
A Monkey, wi' a campsho 3 face,
Clerk to a justice o' the peace ;
A judge he seem'd in justice skill'd,
When he his master's chair had fill'd,
Now umpire chosen for division;
Baith sware to stand by his decision.
Demure he looks-the Cheese he pales-
He prives 4-it's guid-ca's for the scales;
His knife whops throw't-in twa it fell;
He puts ilk half in either shell :

Said he, we'll truly weigh the case,
An' strictest justice shall hae place;
Then lifting up the scales, he fand
The tane bang up, the other stand:
Syne out he took the heaviest half,
An' ate a noost' o't quickly aff,
An' try'd it syne ;-it now prov'd light :
Friends Cats, said he, we'll do ye right.
Then to the other half he fell,
An' laid till't teughly tooth an' nail,
Till weigh'd again it lightest prov'd.
The judge, wha this sweet process lov'd,
Still weigh'd the case, an' still ate on,
Till clients baith were weary grown:

Ye fools, quoth he, and justice too,
Maun be content as weel as you.
Thus grumbl'd they, thus he went on,
Till baith the halves were near-hand done:
Poor Pousies now the daffin 3 saw,
O' gan for nignyes 4 to the law;

An' bill'd the judge, that he wad please
To gie them the remaining cheese :
To which his worship grave reply'd,
The dues of court maun first be paid.
Now justice pleas'd ;-what's to the fore 5
Will but right scrimply clear your score;
That's our decreet-gae hame an' sleep,
An' thank us ye're win aff sae cheap.

THE CAMELEON.

TWA travellers, as they were walking 'Bout the Cameleon fell a talking, (Sic think it shaws them mettl❜d men, To say I've seen, an' ought to ken) : Says ane, 'tis a strange beast indeed, Four-footed, with a fish's head; A little bowk, with a lang tail,

An' moves far slawer than a snail;
Of colour, like a blawart' blue.
Reply'd his neighbour, That's no true;
For weel I wat his colour's green,
If ane may true his ain twa een:
For I in sunshine saw him fair,
When he was dining on the air.
Excuse me, says the ither blade,
I saw him better in the shade,

An' he is blue.-He's green, I'm sure.
Ye lied.-An' ye're the son of a whore.-
Frae words there had been cuff an' kick,
Had not a third come in the nick,
Wha tenting them in this rough mood,
Cry'd, Gentlemen, what! are ye wood? 3
What's your quarrel, an't may be speer't ?4
Troth, says the tane, Sir, ye shall hear't:
The Cameleon, say, he's blue :

T'imagine ithers will by force
Submit their sentiments to yours;
As things in various lights ye see,
They'll ilka ane resemble me."

EDINBURGH KATIE.

Now wat ye wha I met yestreen,
Coming down the street, my joe?
My mistress, in her tartan screen,

Fu' bonnie, braw, and sweet, my joe!
My dear, quoth I, thanks to the nicht
That never wished a lover ill,
Since ye're out o' your mither's sicht,
Let's tak' a walk up to the hill.

He threaps 5 he's green. Now, what say Oh, Katie, wilt thou gang wi' me,
you?

And leave the dinsome toun a while?
The blossom's sprouting frae the tree,
And a' the simmer's gaun to smile.
The mavis, nichtingale, and lark,

The bleeting lambs and whistling hynd,
In ilka dale, green, shaw, and park,
Will nourish health, and glad your
mind.

Soon as the clear gudeman o' day

Does bend his morning draught o' dew, We'll gae to some burn-side and play, And gather flowers to busk your brow. We'll pou the daisies on the green,

The lucken-gowans frae the bog; Between hands, now and then, we'll lean And sport upon the velvet fog.

There's up into a pleasant glen,

A wee piece frae my father's tower, A canny, saft, and flowery den,

Which circling birks have formed a
bower.

Whene'er the sun grows high and warm,
We'll to the cawler shade remove;
There will I lock thee in my arm,

And love and kiss, and kiss and love.

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