UNSPEAKABLE SCOTSHear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:Behold his labours—A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”Aboot his neighbours.And wha should ken sae weel as heWhat a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?Has he no seen wi’ his ain eeAuld Reekie’s lums?Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.And sae is Thrums.Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna kenO’ Scottish life and Scottish men.Wi’ lugs attentive let us thenList to his railin’s,And humbly set oorsels to men’Oor mony failin’s.The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,Wherein one tracesNae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’rAnd courtly graces.We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:We canna catch the witty strokeThat will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,To lauchter shakin’,Nay, whiles we canna see a jokeO’ Crosland’s makin’.We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should weBe quit o’ thae black vices heSae criticises,When a’ the virtues Mr. C.Monopolises?“SATISFACTORY”Mistress.“Well, Jessie, I’m going into Nairn, and will see your mother. Can I give her any message from you?”Jessie (her first “place”).“Ou, mem, ye can just say I’m unco weel pleased wi’ ye!!”The Day and the Deed.—A certain Scottish Presbytery were sorely dumbfounded by an answer to a request of theirs for signature to a Sabbatarian petition. The reply (translated to them of course) wasLaborare est orare.Guard (to inebriated traveller, at junction).Now, sir, all change, please.Traveller (with dignity).D’ye ken, mon, that I’ve got a return ticket?“ICHABOD!”Scots Wife (to her gossip).“Ah dinna ken what’s come ower the Kirk. Ah canna bide to see oor menester spankin’ aboot on yon cyclopædy!”A BALLAD OF EDINBORO’ TOONThe lusty sun did glower aboon,Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;I walked in Edinboro’ toon,A’ in ma caller claes.For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiksThat cost me guineas twa an’ three.But and ma pair o’ ditto breeksThat luiked sae pleasantlie.On ilka breek were creasies twa;And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Were nane sae fair as mine.An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,To gie to ilka lass a treatAn’ a’ the laddies pain.An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pairSae canny an’ sae bonny.I hadna walked an hour at maist,I hadna honoured half the toon,The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.An’ first the dust it gently laid,An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,That loosed the cobble-stanes and playedAuld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.O waly for ma coat o’ cheicksThat cost me guineas twa and three!An’ waly for ma ditto breeksSae bagsome at the knee!The creasies twa are past reca’That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Are nane sae puir as mine!O fause, inhospitable toon,I rede thee, gin I come again,Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,An’ deil tak’ your rain!INTANGIBILITYSevere Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends).“Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnieswhose feelings I can’t appeal to!”
Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:Behold his labours—A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”Aboot his neighbours.And wha should ken sae weel as heWhat a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?Has he no seen wi’ his ain eeAuld Reekie’s lums?Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.And sae is Thrums.Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna kenO’ Scottish life and Scottish men.Wi’ lugs attentive let us thenList to his railin’s,And humbly set oorsels to men’Oor mony failin’s.The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,Wherein one tracesNae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’rAnd courtly graces.We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:We canna catch the witty strokeThat will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,To lauchter shakin’,Nay, whiles we canna see a jokeO’ Crosland’s makin’.We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should weBe quit o’ thae black vices heSae criticises,When a’ the virtues Mr. C.Monopolises?
Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:Behold his labours—A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”Aboot his neighbours.And wha should ken sae weel as heWhat a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?Has he no seen wi’ his ain eeAuld Reekie’s lums?Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.And sae is Thrums.Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna kenO’ Scottish life and Scottish men.Wi’ lugs attentive let us thenList to his railin’s,And humbly set oorsels to men’Oor mony failin’s.The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,Wherein one tracesNae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’rAnd courtly graces.We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:We canna catch the witty strokeThat will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,To lauchter shakin’,Nay, whiles we canna see a jokeO’ Crosland’s makin’.We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should weBe quit o’ thae black vices heSae criticises,When a’ the virtues Mr. C.Monopolises?
Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:Behold his labours—A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”Aboot his neighbours.
Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—
A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:
Behold his labours—
A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”
Aboot his neighbours.
And wha should ken sae weel as heWhat a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?Has he no seen wi’ his ain eeAuld Reekie’s lums?Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.And sae is Thrums.
And wha should ken sae weel as he
What a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?
Has he no seen wi’ his ain ee
Auld Reekie’s lums?
Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.
And sae is Thrums.
Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna kenO’ Scottish life and Scottish men.Wi’ lugs attentive let us thenList to his railin’s,And humbly set oorsels to men’Oor mony failin’s.
Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna ken
O’ Scottish life and Scottish men.
Wi’ lugs attentive let us then
List to his railin’s,
And humbly set oorsels to men’
Oor mony failin’s.
The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,Wherein one tracesNae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’rAnd courtly graces.
The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,
Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,
A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,
Wherein one traces
Nae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’r
And courtly graces.
We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:We canna catch the witty strokeThat will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,To lauchter shakin’,Nay, whiles we canna see a jokeO’ Crosland’s makin’.
We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:
We canna catch the witty stroke
That will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,
To lauchter shakin’,
Nay, whiles we canna see a joke
O’ Crosland’s makin’.
We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should weBe quit o’ thae black vices heSae criticises,When a’ the virtues Mr. C.Monopolises?
We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,
We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should we
Be quit o’ thae black vices he
Sae criticises,
When a’ the virtues Mr. C.
Monopolises?
“SATISFACTORY”Mistress.“Well, Jessie, I’m going into Nairn, and will see your mother. Can I give her any message from you?”Jessie (her first “place”).“Ou, mem, ye can just say I’m unco weel pleased wi’ ye!!”
“SATISFACTORY”Mistress.“Well, Jessie, I’m going into Nairn, and will see your mother. Can I give her any message from you?”Jessie (her first “place”).“Ou, mem, ye can just say I’m unco weel pleased wi’ ye!!”
“SATISFACTORY”
Mistress.“Well, Jessie, I’m going into Nairn, and will see your mother. Can I give her any message from you?”
Jessie (her first “place”).“Ou, mem, ye can just say I’m unco weel pleased wi’ ye!!”
The Day and the Deed.—A certain Scottish Presbytery were sorely dumbfounded by an answer to a request of theirs for signature to a Sabbatarian petition. The reply (translated to them of course) wasLaborare est orare.
Guard (to inebriated traveller, at junction).Now, sir, all change, please.
Traveller (with dignity).D’ye ken, mon, that I’ve got a return ticket?
“ICHABOD!”Scots Wife (to her gossip).“Ah dinna ken what’s come ower the Kirk. Ah canna bide to see oor menester spankin’ aboot on yon cyclopædy!”
“ICHABOD!”Scots Wife (to her gossip).“Ah dinna ken what’s come ower the Kirk. Ah canna bide to see oor menester spankin’ aboot on yon cyclopædy!”
“ICHABOD!”
Scots Wife (to her gossip).“Ah dinna ken what’s come ower the Kirk. Ah canna bide to see oor menester spankin’ aboot on yon cyclopædy!”
The lusty sun did glower aboon,Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;I walked in Edinboro’ toon,A’ in ma caller claes.For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiksThat cost me guineas twa an’ three.But and ma pair o’ ditto breeksThat luiked sae pleasantlie.On ilka breek were creasies twa;And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Were nane sae fair as mine.An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,To gie to ilka lass a treatAn’ a’ the laddies pain.An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pairSae canny an’ sae bonny.I hadna walked an hour at maist,I hadna honoured half the toon,The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.An’ first the dust it gently laid,An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,That loosed the cobble-stanes and playedAuld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.O waly for ma coat o’ cheicksThat cost me guineas twa and three!An’ waly for ma ditto breeksSae bagsome at the knee!The creasies twa are past reca’That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Are nane sae puir as mine!O fause, inhospitable toon,I rede thee, gin I come again,Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,An’ deil tak’ your rain!
The lusty sun did glower aboon,Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;I walked in Edinboro’ toon,A’ in ma caller claes.For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiksThat cost me guineas twa an’ three.But and ma pair o’ ditto breeksThat luiked sae pleasantlie.On ilka breek were creasies twa;And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Were nane sae fair as mine.An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,To gie to ilka lass a treatAn’ a’ the laddies pain.An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pairSae canny an’ sae bonny.I hadna walked an hour at maist,I hadna honoured half the toon,The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.An’ first the dust it gently laid,An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,That loosed the cobble-stanes and playedAuld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.O waly for ma coat o’ cheicksThat cost me guineas twa and three!An’ waly for ma ditto breeksSae bagsome at the knee!The creasies twa are past reca’That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Are nane sae puir as mine!O fause, inhospitable toon,I rede thee, gin I come again,Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,An’ deil tak’ your rain!
The lusty sun did glower aboon,Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;I walked in Edinboro’ toon,A’ in ma caller claes.
The lusty sun did glower aboon,
Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;
I walked in Edinboro’ toon,
A’ in ma caller claes.
For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiksThat cost me guineas twa an’ three.But and ma pair o’ ditto breeksThat luiked sae pleasantlie.
For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiks
That cost me guineas twa an’ three.
But and ma pair o’ ditto breeks
That luiked sae pleasantlie.
On ilka breek were creasies twa;And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Were nane sae fair as mine.
On ilka breek were creasies twa;
And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,
Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’
Were nane sae fair as mine.
An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,To gie to ilka lass a treatAn’ a’ the laddies pain.
An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,
An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,
To gie to ilka lass a treat
An’ a’ the laddies pain.
An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pairSae canny an’ sae bonny.
An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;
An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,
Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pair
Sae canny an’ sae bonny.
I hadna walked an hour at maist,I hadna honoured half the toon,The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.
I hadna walked an hour at maist,
I hadna honoured half the toon,
The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,
An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.
An’ first the dust it gently laid,An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,That loosed the cobble-stanes and playedAuld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.
An’ first the dust it gently laid,
An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,
That loosed the cobble-stanes and played
Auld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.
O waly for ma coat o’ cheicksThat cost me guineas twa and three!An’ waly for ma ditto breeksSae bagsome at the knee!
O waly for ma coat o’ cheicks
That cost me guineas twa and three!
An’ waly for ma ditto breeks
Sae bagsome at the knee!
The creasies twa are past reca’That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’Are nane sae puir as mine!
The creasies twa are past reca’
That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,
Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’
Are nane sae puir as mine!
O fause, inhospitable toon,I rede thee, gin I come again,Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,An’ deil tak’ your rain!
O fause, inhospitable toon,
I rede thee, gin I come again,
Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,
An’ deil tak’ your rain!
INTANGIBILITYSevere Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends).“Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnieswhose feelings I can’t appeal to!”
INTANGIBILITYSevere Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends).“Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnieswhose feelings I can’t appeal to!”
INTANGIBILITY
Severe Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends).“Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnieswhose feelings I can’t appeal to!”