THE WISE-LIKE CHAP
Aye, billies, I’m a wise-like chap,
I dinna smoke nor drink,
And gin I gi’e my poke a slap
Ye’ll hear the siller chink.
My feyther has an aicht-pair[21] fairm
Weel set wi’ byre an’ stack;
There’s mony will obey me
An’ tak’ their pattern frae me,
But Annie winna hae me
An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!
My Grannie’s saved a bit hersel’,
She’s three-score year an’ ten,
Wha’ll get the profit nane can tell
(An’ yet I think I ken!)
It’s fules wad cross a rich auld wife,
Sae a’ her fleers[22] I tak’,
An’ tho’ it’s like to pay me,
Richt little guid ’twill dae me,
For Annie winna hae me
An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!
Ye’ll mebbe mind the miller’s loon
That was a fair disgrace;
His auld dune hat was clour’d abune
An’ mill-dust on his face.
The gowk! He gaed awa to fecht
And syne cam’ crippl’t back;
Yestre’en he passed my Grannie
Wi’ his left airm bandig’t cannie—
But his richt ane happit Annie,
An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!