BAILIE BRUCE
Ye’d winder, when creation’s planSeems sae acceptable to man,And the Creator, in His power,Made brute an’ bird, an’ fruit an’ flower;When e’en the wasps that bigg their bikeAn’ clocks[15]an’ golachs, an’ the likeO’ a’ yon vairmin has their use,What gar’d Him fashion Bailie Bruce?He couldna thole to see a weanWheepin’ his pearie[16]on the green,Nae sweethe’rts coorted but he sawAuld Homie’s tail ahint the twa.In godly wrath he aye wad showHis hate o’ sinfu’ men; but tho’The wicked fled afore his faceThe guid aye passed them i’ the race.Oot frae the foremaist seat at kirkHe roared the psalms like ony stirk,For gripp’d was he by sic a zealAs nane but the elect micht feel;An’ when the kirk-door plate was set,Wi’ looks o’ pride ye’d ne’er forget,When puir fowk laid their pennies doonHe’d gi’e his Maker half a croon.Weel, whiles oor ancient customs changeAn’ fowk accep’ what’s new an’ strange;Oor decent plate awa was laidFor bonny baggies—English made.Sawbath cam’ roond; the kirk was in;The Bailie sat an’ glow’red on sin;The Elder brocht wi’ reverent feetHis baggie to the foremaist seat.In drapp’d the money; Bailie BruceWi’ open hand an’ purse-strings looseAnd e’en upliftit, kept his place;The bag passed on its road o’ grace.Weel was’t he couldna see the smileThat a’ yon kirk-fu’ had the whileNor yet the Elder’s twisted mou’That wrocht him a’ the journey through!For oh! ahint the Bailie’s backWas done a deed o’ shame to mak’His righteous he’rt wi’ anger swellNane gie’d a bodle but himsel’!An’ at the coontin’, plain to see,The baggie held but ae bawbee!
His health noo gars him keep the hoose;Losh-aye! what ails him, Bailie Bruce?
FOOTNOTES:[15]Beetles.[16]Whipping-top.
[15]Beetles.
[15]Beetles.
[16]Whipping-top.
[16]Whipping-top.