Classic Poem

A TALE .

K EN'D ye e'er a social chiel',
 A sober lad, that means nane ill;
But Hymen hook'd him in his noose,
 An' sour'd content wi' Johnny Gill.

Nane raise mair cheerfu' to their wark,
 Peace hover'd round his bosom lang;
Wi' routh o' health his heart was light,
 An' blythe he o'er the lee-rig sang.

Wha wi' him a fur cou'd streekit,
 Or borne a meal sack to his size?
For thrice he bang'd the miller's man,
 An' thrice he won the ploughing prize.

Ruddy was his face, and gracefu',
 When first he hired wi' Laird Mane,
But ere the winds o' ware were blawn,
 Part o's peace an' health were gane.

Sally Sloan, baith fair an' pauky,
 That made the bed, and clean'd the room,
Soon twin'd him o' his manly heart,
 An' left poor Jonny's bosom toom.

Gay she spread her curls daily,
 Ay she twinkl'd wi' her e'en,
Ay she busk'd her bosom dinkly;
 Whyles a taper'd leg was seen.

Soon she saw the lad was dinted,
 Weel it suited wi' her plan;
Hadna she her views extended,
 To draw in baith laird an' man.

Lang he fear'd his mind to mint it,
 Sally seem'd baith proud and braw;
Sae fierce his love was the first fortnight,
 Fient a wink he sleept ava.

Sober was the simmer e'enin',
 Mildly beam'd the setting sun,
Glist'ning on the cottar's window;
 Rowin' reek tower'd frae the lum.

Down a wimpling burnie trotted,
 By a smooth an' daisied green;
Here lay sarks, an sheets, an' mutches,
 Gowns an' ruffles bleachin' clean.

On its banks a bow'r was bigged,
 Theeked o'er wi' birken leaves,
There gloamin' brought the lads and lasses,
 Baith to court and watch the thieves.

Happy bow'r that aft has shielded
 Blushes o' the bashful maid;
Tho' whyles beneath thee ha'e been happed
 Nymphs that needed nae sic aid.

Here first Fortune favour'd Johnny
 To breathe out his lowin' flame;
A' the lave were soundly sleepin';
 Wha were happier now than them?

Lang they talk'd o' lads an' lasses,
 Dresses seen at kirk an' fair;
Syne o' courting an' convoying:
 Lang ere he durst mention mair.

Sally spak' o' lads being faithless;
 How it was an awsome sin;
How she seldom saw them happy,
 Matches that hang lang i' win'.

Johnny joined, and syne drew near her;
 Need I tell what mair they'd say,
Seeing now the ice was broken,
 Hope pav'd out the after way.

Nae doubt sighs, an' vows, an' kisses,
 Claps an' squeezes o' the han',
Thaw'd thro' time her snawy bosom;
 Wha can sic a siege withstan'?

True it is, they soon were buckl'd—
 Soon flew by the hinny moon;
But ere sax months slipped slowly,
 Sall brought him a wally son.

Thankless frien's, by nods and whispers,
 Wi' strange fancies fill'd his head;
Some said he had pried the dainties
 Ere the haly grace was said.

Vex'd and cross'd, yet kendna weel how;
 Ay he thought his conscience clear:
Sally's mither saw him swithering,
 Whisper'd saftly in his ear,

That the first was seldom sicker—
 He maun for a truth receiv't;
The laird he spak' o' learned causes;
 But John himsel' cou'd scarce believ't.

Ance the carlin' kept an alehouse;
 Young anes whyles will kiss the cup;
An' daimen wives, when cankers cross them,
 Prie't to keep their courage up.

Sally, gay, an' us'd wi' dautin'
 By frien's or sweethearts a' her life,
Now fand but few o' nights or days
 Her thoughts had pictur'd for a wife.

Johnny's glee has now a sameness,
 His hamely fare's no worth a flie;
But weel she lo'ed a tasty nei'bour,
 O'er a social cup o' tea.

He toils, while she maun ha'e a servant
 To do her drudg'ry out an' in;
Her gentle han's were never made
 To wash his ploughman hose, or spin.

His meal or mart were seldom lastin';
 Kimmers cam an' bore't awa';
The beds turn'd bare, an' without bo'sters;
 The milk was supped, taps an' a.

Sall, as bairns turn'd thick an' thicker,
 A' her beauties chang'd their hue;
The laird, as nowte grew dear an' dearer,
 Turn'd he wou'dna grass the cow.

Meal was dear, an' scant the kitchen;
 Bairns were sma' an' ill to rear;
John's locks wore thin, but ay he labour'd,
 Hop'd ay better year to year.

Thus he warsels wi' the warld;
 Sally's tongue's baith dreich an' fell;
Age an' poortith sairly shore him,
 Ere the bairns can fend themsel'.

Shou'd ye, lads, a wife that's wantin',
 See some fair lass o'er a gill,
Gif her smirking looks entice you,
 Mind the fate o' Johnny G ILL .

Beauty seldom proves a blessin';
 The stealin' fairy robs the min',
Spreads a lure for knaves an' flattery—
 Source o' meikle dool an' pine.

Hymen's love's baith sweet an' lastin',
 If frien'ly prudence beets the low;
But selfish pride, an' careless habits,
 Damp the strings o' Cupid's bow.