THE TRAMP TO THE TATTIE-DULIE
Thrawn-leggit carle wi’ airms on hieAnd jist a hole for ilka ee,Ye needna lift yer hand to meAs though ye’d strike me;Ye’re threits abune an’ strae below,But what-like use is sic a show?Ye maun respec’ me, bogle, tho’Ye mauna like me!To gutsy doo or thievin’ crawYe mebbe represent the lawWhen they come fleein’ owre the wa’To tak’ an airin’,Dod, I’ll no say they arena richtWhen sic a fell, unchancy sichtGars them think twice afore they licht—ButI’mno carin’!Yer heid’s a neep,[1]yer wame’s[2]a sack,Yer ill-faured face gars bairnies shak’,But yet the likes o’ you can mak’A livin’ frae it;Sma’ use to me! It isna fairFor though there’s mony wad declareThat I’m no far ahint ye there,Icanna dae it!Life’s a disgust wi’ a’ its ways,For free o’ chairge ye get yer claes,Nae luck hae I on washin’-days—There’s plenty dryin’,But gin I see a usefu’ sarkAn’ bide or gloamin’ help my wark,The guidwife’s oot afore it’s dark—And leaves nane lyin’.Weel, weel, I’m aff. It’s little pleasureTo see ye standin’ at yer leisureWhen I’ve sae mony miles to measureTo get a meal!Ye idle dog! My bonnet’s through,An’ yours is no exac’ly new,But a’ the same I’ll hae’t frae you,And faur-ye-weel!
FOOTNOTES:[1]Turnip.[2]Belly.
[1]Turnip.
[1]Turnip.
[2]Belly.
[2]Belly.