THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE,

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE

A

NEW YEAR.

GUID New Year I wish thee, Maggie !

Hae, there's a rip to thy auld baggie :
Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie,
I've seen the day

Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie

Out-owre the lay.

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, and crazy,
An' thy auld hide's as white's a daisy,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, an' glazie,
A bonny grey :

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,

A filly buirdly, steeve, an' swank,
An' set weel doun a shapely shank,

As e'er tread yird ;

An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,

Sin' thou was my guid father's meere:

He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,

An' fifty mark;

Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,

An' thou was stark.

An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,

How thou would prance, an' snore, an' skreigh,

An' tak the road!

Town's bodies ran, and stood abeigh,

An' ca't thee mad.

When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,

We took the road aye like a swallow:

At Brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,

For pith an' speed ;

But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,

Whare'er thou gaed.

The sma' droop-rumpl't hunter cattle

Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;

But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,

An' gar't them whaizle.

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle

O' saugh or hazel.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',

As e'er in tug or tow was drawn

Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun,

In guid March weather,

Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han',

For days thegither.

Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit,
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith an' pow'r,

Till spritty knowes wad rair't and risket,
An' slypet owre.

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,
An' threaten'd labour back to keep,

I gied thy cog a wee bit heap

Aboon the timmer ;

I kenn'd my Maggie wadna sleep

For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestit;

The steyest brae thou wad hae fac'd it;
Thou never lap, an' sten't, an' breastit,

Then stood to blaw;

But just thy step a wee thing hastit,

Thou snoov't awa.

H

My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a';
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw:
Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa',

That thou hast nurst:

They drew me thretteen punds an' twa,

The vera warst.

Mony a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
An' wi' the weary warl' fought !

An' mony an anxious day, I thought

We wad be beat!

Yet here to crazy age we're brought,

Wi' something yet.

An' thinkna, my auld trusty servan',
That now perhaps thou's less deservin',
An' thy auld days may end in starvin',

For my last fou,

A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane

Laid by for you.

We've worn to crazy years thegither;
We'll toyte about wi' ane anither;
Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether

To some hain'd rig,

Whare ye may nobly rax your leather.

Wi' sma' fatigue.

Burns.