PART VIII

Humor

PART VIII

HUMOR

LOVE IS LIKE A DIZZINESS

I LATELY lived in quiet ease,
An' never wished to marry, O!
But when I saw my Peggy's face,
I felt a sad quandary, O!
Though wild as ony Athol deer,
She has trepanned me fairly, O!
Her cherry cheeks an' een sae clear
Torment me late an' early, O!
O, love, love, love!

Love is like a dizziness;
It winna let a poor body
Gang about his biziness!

To tell my feats this single week

Wad mak a daft-like diary, O!
I drave my cart out ower a dike,
My horses in a miry, O !

I wear my stockings white an' blue,
My love's sae fierce an' fiery O!
I drill the land that I should plough,
An' plough the drills entirely, O!
O, love, love, love! etc.

Ae morning, by the dawn o' day,
I rase to theek the stable, O!
I cuist my coat, an' plied away
As fast as I was able, O!

I wrought that morning out an' out,
As I'd been redding fire, O!
When I had done an' looked about,
Gudefaith, it was the byre, O!
O, love, love, love! etc.

Her wily glance I'll ne'er forget,

The dear, the lovely blinkin o't

Has pierced me through an' through the heart, An' plagues me wi' the prinkling o't.

267

I tried to sing, I tried to pray,

I tried to drown 't wi' drinkin' o 't,
I tried wi' sport to drive 't away,
But ne'er can sleep for thinkin' o 't.
O, love, love, love! etc.

Nae man can tell what pains I prove,
Or how severe my pliskie, O!
I swear I'm sairer drunk wi' love
Than ever I was wi' whiskey, O!
For love has raked me fore an' aft,
I scarce can lift a leggie, O!
I first grew dizzy, then gaed daft,
An' soon I'll dee for Peggy,
O, love, love, love!

Love is like a dizziness;

It winna let a poor body

Gang about his biziness!

O!

JAMES HOGG.

GLUGGITY GLUG

A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store,
And he had drunk stoutly at supper;

He mounted his horse in the night at the door,
And sat with his face to the crupper.

"Some rogue," quoth the friar, "quite dead to remorse, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,

Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse,
While I was engaged at the bottle,

Which went gluggity, gluggity - glug — glug — glug."

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale,

'T was the friar's road home, straight and level; But, when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not his tail, So he scampered due north like a devil.

"This new mode of docking," the friar then said,
"I perceive does n't make a horse trot ill;

And 't is cheap, for he never can eat off his head,
While I am engaged at the bottle,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity - glug — glug — glug.”

The steed made a stop — in a pond he had got,
He was rather for drinking than grazing;

Quoth the friar, ""T is strange headless horses should trot,
But to drink with their tails is amazing!"

Turning round to see whence this phenomenon rose,
In the pond fell this son of a pottle;

Quoth he, "The head's found, for I'm under his nose
I wish I were over a bottle,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity — glug - glug —glug."

GEORGE COLMAN.

RORY O'MORE

YOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen bawn,-
He was bold as a hawk, she as soft as the dawn;
He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please,
And he thought the best way to do that was to tease.
"Now Rory, be aisy!" sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye,-

"With your tricks, I don't know, in troth, what I'm about;
Faith! you 've tazed till I've put on my cloak inside out.
"Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way
Ye 've thrated my heart for this many a day;

And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure?
For 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

'Indeed, then," says Kathleen, " don't think of the like,
For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike :
The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound

"Faith!" says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground." "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go;

Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so!"
"Och!" says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear,
For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear.
So, jewel, kape dhraming that same till ye die,
And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie!
And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure?
Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

66

Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you 've tazed me enough; Sure I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste."

Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck,

So soft and so white, without freckle or speck;

And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming with light,

66

And he kissed her sweet lips,- don't you think he was right?
Now, Rory, leave off, sir,— you'll hug me no more,
That's eight times to-day that you 've kissed me before."
"Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure !
For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More.

SAMUEL LOVER.