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Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel,
Unseen that night.
Between her an' the moon,
Gat up an' gae a croon:
Near lav'rock height she jumpit,
Wi' a plunge that night.
The luggies three* are rang'd,
To see them duly chang'd:
Sin Mar's-year did desire,
In wrath that night.
• Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty : blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean water, the future hus. band or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid: if in the foul, a widow: if in the empty dish, it foretels, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.
I wat they did na weary ;
Their sports were cheap an' cheery,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin; Syne, wi’ a social glass o’ strunt, They parted aff careerin
Fu' blythe that night.
THE AULD FARMER's
NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION
HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE,
On giving her the accustomed Ripp of Corn to hansel
in the New Year.
A GUID New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
I've seen the day,
Out-owre the lay.
+ Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper.
Tho' now ihou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy, An' thy auld hide’s as white's a daisy, I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glazie,
A bonny gray: He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
Ance in a day.
Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
As e'er tread yird ;
Like onie bird.
It's now some nine-an’-twenty year,
An' fifty mark;
An' thou was stark.
When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie : Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie,
Ye ne'er was donsie; But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie,
An' unco sonsie.
That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride, When ye bure hame my bonnie bride ; An’sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air! Kyle Stewart I could bragged wide,
For sic a pair. VOL. XXXVIII.
Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
For heels an' win'!
Far, far behin.'
When thou an' I were young an' skeigh, An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh, How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh,
An' tak the road! Town's bodies ran,
and stood abeigh, An' ca't thee mad.
When thou was eorn't, an' I was mellow, We took the road ay 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-rumplit, 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
Oʻ saugh or hazel.
Thou was a noble fittie-lan,'
On guid March-weather.
For days thegither.
Thou never braindga't, an' fech't, an' fliskit, But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith and pow'r, Till spritty knowes wad rairit and risket,
An' slypet owre.
When frosts lay bang, an' snaws were deep, An' threaten'd labor back to keep, I gied thy cog a wee-bit heap,
Aboon the timmer; I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep
For that, or simmer.
In cart or car thou never reestit;
Then stood to blaw;
Thou snoov't awa.
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 pund an' twa,
The vera warst.
Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
We wad be beat!
Wi' something yet.