SB ISb EflM LIBRARY WIVWSITY OF CALIFOHNIA SONGS AND VERSES. SONGS AXD VERSES LY THE LATE JOHN M. HILL AND T II E LATE JOHN HILL, Jrx. L A R G S : J. & TL SIMPS X. 1837. PRINTED BY J. AND R. SIMPS:>N. PREFACE. Ox the suggestion of a number of friends and admirers of the deceased, the following songs and verses from the pens of -the late John Morris Hill, and his son John, are dedicated to the inhabitants of Largs and, surrounding district To the " outside " world, the compilation may seem pretentious and uninteresting, but the local enthusiasm with which some of the songs were received at the time they first saw tae light of day, gives the Editor a sufficient apology for the present publication. Mr J. M. Hill was born, lived, and died in Largs, and the local News, referring to his demise at t'le time says : " He included in his many and various talents that of poetry, and many a time has he been heard to advantage at soiree or supper singing his own lines suitable to the occasion amidst rounds of applause. Almost every sport native to Largs has been touched on by his pen yachting, curling, bowling, and volunteering, all having come under contribu- tion to his ready rhyme. With loving and gentle touch he 386 vi. has also sung of the beauties of his native place, " Sweet, modest Largs." Honest and upright in all his actions, he was also a cheery companion, whose stores of anecdote seemed never to fail or grow threadbare, and whose humorous pawky style of telling them improved the best and even made poor ones good. A man without enmity, as he was, we think, without enemies, he lived a life which was an example to all those by whom he was surrounded, or who came in contact with him." Of the son, it may with truth be said, that in many things "the boy was father to the man." Born at a time when education was more readily obtained, he acquired tastes for literature and art which ultimately lecame the sine qua non of his life. Speaking at the time of his death the News remarked : " Besides being endowed with artistic power of no mean order, he luul also a refined taste in literature, and was a lyric poet of more than ordinary power." LARGS, March, 1SS7. JOHN M. HILL. SONGS AND VERSES BY TI E LATE J. M. HILL. SONG -TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BURNS. (Composed and Sung at Burns's Centenary, 29 ;h Jany. It 59). Tur.e " Scots wha hae." Burns, wha sang in bygane days, Burns wha sang auld Scotia's ]j*ys, Wba'll no join in votive praise To sing thy memory ] Wha'll forget the native fire That does thy writings a' inspire, And never try to strike the lyre To sing thy memory ( Wha can mak' ilk bird sing sweet, Wha can mak' twa dogs to speak, Wha mak' nature sae replete With their memory ] Wha, like thee, e'er tried the theme A' but thee hae sung in vain *? But noclit o' thee can we retain But thy memory. SONGS AND VERSES. Thy strains hae tiallow'd ilk fireside, Their truthfulness sae sweetly glide ; Can we be mute when a' beside Sing thy memory ] Lang may thy works be read, As lang may thy fame be spread, When we are number'd wi' the dead Wha sang thy memory ! ON THE SAME OCCASION. Tune "A man's a man, for a' that." This nicht we're met to show respect An' gratitude, an' a' that, To ane wha's life clos'd in neglect By lich an' puir, for a' that. Chorus For a' that, an' a' that, Our negligence an' a' that. Tho' noo he's gane he's left a name Immortalis'd for a' that. What tho' in humble life he walk'tl In disrespect an' a' that, Tho' puir his lot he's lessons taught We'll ne'er forget, for a' that. Chorus For a' that, an' a that, Our disrespect an' a' that Tho' puir his lot he's lessons taught, We'll ne'er forget for a' that. SOXGti AND VS&SE8. LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BURNS. TH Januar, Eighteen fifty-nine (As lang's I live that clay ]'J1 mind), Whilst musing in the auld coal ree On Bum's Natal Day, to be A weaver, or some other trade, A voice within me plainly said : Come, tho' nnlearn'd, untrain'd, unknown, Come, add your ndte to what has grown A household name on every coast, Tho' nane but Ayrshire e'er could boast His place of birth. Now, alas she in'urns The loss of her ain poet, Burns. A century has pass'd and gone Since Burns, a hardy peasant's son, Launch'd forth into this world of ours A helpless babe with i a*ive powers, Impl-tnted there for some wise end Not to seduce, but him defend From ills unseen, tho' not less real By man's attempt them to conceal. In early life he little show'd That Genius had her gifts bestow'd ; But manhood reach'd while at the plough She with her garland's deck'd his brow, And bade him write in ploughman phrase O' mice and mer, their works and ways. Then, at her bidding, he began To show what constitutes the man ; That wealth, and rank, and power is sent From God to man, but blessings lent To be improved as he directs ; But woe to man if he neglects And lets his heart's bluid freeze like ice And treats his brith^r '-non as mice. That humble life make's virtue shine His Cottar's Nicht does weel deiine AND VERSES. He shows us there our duty plain To every art and guile disdain, And humbly walk in. wisdom's way And make our God our only stay. He made the daisie's tender stem To lift her voice aloud to men, " My fate tho' but a tender flower, Is yours, oh man ! no distant hour ; " The brigs, the " dugs," the wounded hare, The sheep, the lamb, the aulcl grey mare, A' point a moral man to show That he while here should learn and know To act his part on this world's stage, Tho' fears oppress and passions rage, And ne'er till laid in silent urn To make our fellow blither m'urn ; But kindly aiding on our blither . As on through life we trudge thegither, Till at life's close, our duty done, We make our exit one by one. To meet that God we love and fear And from his lips this welcome hear " Come enter life that never dies Shar'd by myself beyond the skies !" But now my muse is getting tired And a' hei blighter flames expired j I'll draw my verses to a close And let her take a whiles repose 1 , Maybe she'll help some ither time Should I take thocht again to ihyme. SONG LARGS VOLUNTEERS. Tune "Red, white, and blue." Largs ! thou'st been lang fam'd in story, Once more in the field thou appears, To protect Britain's Queen, Crown, and Glory, Thou nuiks auiung the British Volunteers, 80XG1 AND ril Should an enemy dare to invade thee, Or call forth a' a nation's fears ; O never may a coward degrade the 3 Or the ranks of the Largs Volunteers ! Of ol<). when the Norsemen's Armada, Once dar'd with our shores interfere ; Thy ancestors fought and seem'd glad, aye To be call'd by the name Volunteer. Should their sons ever dare to betray them, Or the homes that to them were so dear ? No never ! till an enemy lay them In Death, like a brave Volunteer. Noo lang may thy shores be protected Till foes from the earth disappear, As lang may thy name be connected With the ranks of the British Volunteer. Till at last, with our Queen, Crown, and Glory, Death winds up this life's mad career ; May the turf o'er our graves tell the story " Beneath lies a Largs Volunteer," LARGS CURLERS' SONG. Tune " Maggie Lauder." Come, Largs men, a', an' list a wee : I don't mean to detain you ; Least ocht that I can write or sing May fail to entertain you. Come ane an' a' an' join wi' me While Freedom's flag's unfurling, An' Kirks an' Qraveyards let a be* We'll hae a s^lore 'bout curling. * Cemetery and F.C, Minister were both dis;u l ed at th's time, 18'KI. SONGS AXD VfiltiES. Noo, fiist of a' when North andSout'i* Met ovvre at Castlesemple, We beat our men about ten shots, An' gied the North a sample What Largs could do if they'd agree To do aught without quarelling ; I think our town wad better be If they'd settle a' at curling. We next day met on the Hill Pond, Our freens up frae Kilvvinnin', An' tho' they beat us some three shots, We took it a' in funnin'. But if we'ie spar'd anither year, Tho' rain an' snaw be whirling ; We'll meet them ow're on their ain pond, An' try them yet at curling. The next three matches were, I think, Kilbride, Dairy. Kilbirnie ; An' Fortune, tho' a fickle jade, Her wheel on our side turn'd aye. Sae gie me Largs men an' keen ice, A stane to lift out burling ; I wadna care, whaure'er I gaed, To try a game at curling. Sae noo, my freene, my splore is dune, An' if wi' me ye're thinking, Ye'll fill youv glasses to the brim, Tho' to yoursels ye Ye drinking, An' drink success to Largs men a', That they may end their quarelling, Aii' if in aught they disagree, They'll settle a' at curling. *]^orth and South of Scotland North was victorious. SOXOS AND VERSES. SONG IN HONOUR OF MR OEO. HUTCHISON, BUTLER, BLACKDALES. Tune" Betty Martin, 0." Come, friends, attention, pay to whac I'm about to say, The subject I h?.ve chosen nearly touches on A friend we all respect, whom to honour we're all met, And that friend, you're all aware, is Mr Hutchison. When first to Largs he came, tho' we scarcely knew hia name, We thought by his appearance he was such a one As he after prov'd to be, from vice and folly free, Quite an honour to us a' is Mr Hutchison. But still there's ae bit faut, he enjoys his wee drap maut, An' like me admires the ladies wi'braw mutches on; But what's a faut in me, in him you never see, For quite the lady's man is Mr Hutchison. Yet tho' he's gaun awa' afi to America, May calumnie on him ne'er get her clutches on ! May peace attend his ways till the evening of his days, Is the fervent wish of a' for Mr Hutchison. Lang may his loving wife and family through life Be spar'd to ane rinither, till their race is run ; So to conclude my tale, may the owner of Blackdale Have always in his service men like Hutchison. THE TERRIBLE FIONA. Song in Honour of Captain John Houston. Tune " Maggie Lauder." Wha amang us has'na heard O' the Terrible Fiona, Commanded by a cannie Scot, Wha can sail a yacht wi' onnie '] VERSES. But if ye hav'na heard o' her, Or dis'na ken our Johnnie, Just list a wee to some o' the feats O' the Terrible Fiona. Sae, noo, my freens she was built last year By the Messrs Fife o' Fairlie Wha beats them far at building yachts, Maun rise up middlin' early. But what altho' when in a race, Her mould be e'er sae bonnie ; A deal depends on the cannie Scot, On board o' the Fiona. The first race that she ran this year, I think, was out at Queenston, At Liverpool, at Largs, and Brae, An' next she ran at Kingston. But Liverpool was the greatest farce So says the Mail reporter ; She won the race but lost the cup, 'Cause her flag was a half-inch shorter. But a' the races she has run In home an' foreign waters, How some she lost an' some she won, An' some had sair disasters. The ocean race was the greatest feat, Frae Hyde right out to Clierbonr ; She astonish'd a' the racing world, By landing first in the harbour. Noo I'll conclude an hope ye'll pledge Lang life an' health to Johnnie, "Whom Bells Life nam'd the " cannie Scot " 0' the the terrible Fiona. An' likewise to the better half An' fireside o' our cronie, That they may lang look back wi' pride To the clipper yacht Fiona, S AND VERSES. SONG LARGS BAKING COMPANY. Time " Work, boys, work, and be contented." Come, friends, and list awhile, and I'll try to make you smile On this our fourteenth Annual Soiree ; I will tell you of our plan when we at first began To form in Largs a Baking Companie. Chorus Then come, friends all, and be united, On this our fourteenth Annual Soiiee ; I will tell how we begun at first to bake a bun, And form in Largs a Baking Companie. At first 'twas always thought all our schemes would come to nought, They thought that Largs men never could agree, To carry out a plan to aid their brother man, Or ever form a Baking Companie. But noo we've made it plain they hae prophesied in vain, We've shown them how that Lar^s men can agree ; We now can loudly boast o'er towns alan<^ the coast, And point them to our Baking Cjinpanie. In proof of what I say, we to all our neighbours may liefer them to our Annual Soiree; And may all our friends invite, together to unite, To support at ance our Baking Companie. Chorus Then come, friends all, and be united, On this our fourteenth Annual Soiree ; And whatever others ay we'll support as weel we may, All the efforts of the Baking Companie, 10 S&$&S~AND VERSES. SONG -OUR A1N, OUR NATIVE HAME. (Composed and suns; at the third re-union of L/trg* natives and friends in Glaegow, in the Merchants' Hall, 25th Feby. 1868). Tune " The kye comes hame." Come a' my fellow townsmen ! Awl listen to my sang, On this our thud re- union, I'll not detain yon lang ; The subject I hae chosen I've only but to name, 'Tis that lovely spot we a' loe weel, Our ain, our native hame. Tis the place that gave us birth And nursed our infant years, And mixed our merry boyhood WT monie hopes and fears ; But noo since manhood's reached, May we neV.r do aught to s!mme Tlint lovely spot, our place of birth Our ain, our native hame. What tho' we want the din And noise o' active life ; What tho' we aften hae Our wee bit party strife ; Yet where's the spot on earth Can set a' our hearts on flame, Like that lovely spot, our place of birth Our ain, our native hame. An exile doomed to roam On some far distant shore, What hardships he'll endure By land or ocean's roar ; Even nature's rarest gifts, To him appear quite vain, ]f he's ne'er to s j e that lovely spot, Ilis ain, his native hame, ,90 AY/.? X A/) VERSES. H Then let us be contented, And do the best \ve can ; Where Providence our lot has cast, To aid our blither man. That when our duty's dune, We may resign this frame In the hope we'll meet, our joys complete, In a far, far better hame. SONG ON THE SAME OCCASION. Tune " Work, boys, work, and be contented." In a meeting such as this, where there's naething ta'en amiss. Where all appears so jolly and so free ; I will try to show you how, you should all begin just now To support your Natives' Annual Soiree. Chomis Then come, natives all, and join the chorus, You all appear so jolly and so fiee ; I will try to show you how you should all begin just now To support your Natives' Annual Soiree. Then first, let every man get wed as soon's he can To a partner that will help him on through life ; Tho' a king upon a throne, man should never be alone, For he wants his better half 1 mean a wife. 'Tu the ladies duty, too, to keep union aye in view, And choose the best as ladies only can , For if once the ladies say, they are sure to gain the day, And they seldom fail to please the favoured man. So now take my advice, and don't be over nice, Or else you're sure to disappointed be; But at once adopt my plan and do the best you can To supporc your Natives' Annual Soiree, 12 8CNJX AND VB&SES. C horns Tiien (o ne natives all, and j )in the chorus, And loudly cheer the Working Committee ; 1'h it if spared to after years they may banish all their fears, About their Native Annual Soiree, SONG LET OTHERS SING OF DISTANT LANDS. (Composed and sun j; at the Penny Readings in the Bath Hall, 21th March 1868). Air "fiae bring my gude auld harp ance mair." Let others sing of distant lands, With pure and brighter skies, Where orange groves and clustered vines In rich luxuriance rise ; But I will sing of ane more dear, Where, like a fairy queen, Surrounded by its neighboring hills Sweet modest Largs is seen. Oh ! Largs thy name has lang been famed, .For puie and bracing air, For rural walks and lovely beach Few with thee can compare ; But climb thy hills and gaze around There like a fairy scene : Lie Brisbane Glen and Kelburne Woods With modest Largs between. There may be spots to some more dear, More stirring and more grand, But vvhere/s the place so clean, so fair As if by nature plann'd 1 And climb thy hills and gaze around 'Tis like a fairy scene, There Arran hills, the Isle of Bute, And Cum braes lie between. ANb rKRxK<. 13 Lang may thy walks, thy lovely beach And healthful bracing air ; Thy cleanly streets with flowing streams Be priz'd beyond compare. As lang we'll climb thy sloping hill;, To view thy lovely sc j ne, On Gogo braes we'll gather slaes Till old acre intervene. SONG LIFE'S MANY CHANGES. (Composed and sung: at a meeting held in Bath Street Hall for the purpose of raising money to give the deserving poor < f the parish one good hearty imal on Christmas Day, 1868). Tune " Just befoie the battle mother, c." Some few months hae just gone o'er us, Since in this same Hall we met; Many changes pass before us Some perhaps we'll ne'er forget. Chorus But amid life's many changes, Oh ! how pleasant 'tis to see; So many old familiar faces, Blooming full of health and glee. Some have gone the round of pleasure, Other's gone in quest of fame ; All neglectful or that treasure That on earth can raise their name. Chorus. Some have gone, alas, for ever, Gone the way they'll ne'er retuin ; Cross'd for aye that darksome rivrr, And have left us here to mourn. Chorus. Everything in nature change? 1 , All on earth must soo:i decay ; 14 S&SOS AND Though we reach life's longest ranges, Oli bow short on earth our stay. Chorus Should we reach life's longest ranges, Oh how wise in us to be ; Prepared to meet whatever changes, In the future hid may be. Then let all when health possessing, While the sands of life still run ; For that better world be pressing, Where 'tis but real life begun. Chont* Then, farewell life's many changes, There from death and sorrow free ', We will meet those loving faces, There to spend eternity. SONG THE PASSING YEAH. (Composed and sung in the Bath Hall, on 23rd December isoy), Tune" The Sailor's Grave." This world we walk is but a stage Where cliff rent parts each mind engage, We play our parts as best we may ; And when 'tis acted pass aw ly. Chorus Still weeks and months and years roll on, To join with these already gone ; Oh I then, how wise to pause and fear As we i-eview each passing year. Our life at best is like a dream, Or like the meteor's fitful gleam ; Or fairyland where all seems gay, A moment bright, then fades away. Chorus. AXJJ rE/MLS. 15 ITow short the longest life of man, 'Tis oft compared to one short span ; Though here our being will not end, But through eternity extend. (^IlO)-H*. Then let us all with hearts sincere, Now ponder well this passing year ; And plaj our parts as best we can, All through life's short allotted spun. Chorus That when at last our part's well done, And months and years forever gone ; Those welcome words ring in our ears " Come, reign above through endless 3 ears ! " SONG-BRAVE VOLUNTEERS. (Composed and Sung in the Victoria Hall at the distribution of Prizes to the 4th Ayrshire Rifle Volunteers, 23rd Decrember 1869). Tvne "The Charming Young Widow." Young men, give attention to my simple story, And banish at once all your doubts and your fear* ; Would you wish to share in a true Briton's glory 1 Then join in the ranks of our brave Volunteers ! And if foreign foemen e'er dare to invade us, Or rob us of rights, and then treat us with sneers ; We'll show them as Briton's, they ne'er can degrade us, Or crush down the spirits of true Volunteers. We ne'er will submit to be wrong'd by our neighbours, Be they Russians, or Prussians, or French Grenadiers ; But like our forefathers with swords or with sabres, We'll stand by our rights then, like brave Volunteers. But should they desist and prefer arbitration, To lighting and bloodshed, and poor orphan'.* tears ; Wr, with the consent of the whole British nation, Will lay down our arms then, like brave teeis. 1G SOAY/tf AXD VElMES. Then let us be always prepar'd for our duty, Till lighting and bloodshed and war disappears ; And earth has regained as at first all her beauty, And mankind lives happy without volunteers. And when at the close of all earthly trials, That grim tyrant Death at the last doth appear ; We'll welcome his summons and drain all his vials, And yield at the last like a brave Volunteer. SONG POOR OLD ROBIN DUFF. (Written on occasion of a concert got np in Fairlie to raise a little money to aid old llobin Dutt, Fairlie ferryman, in his old age, in Jany. 1874). Taut " Tom Bowling." Here we're all met to show kind feelings, To one we all respect ; "Who kind and just in all his dealings, With all we'll ne'er forget. By land or sea we always found him Jolly, kind and bluff; But now, alas ! old age has crown'd him : Poor old Robin Duff! Old Robin ne'er his post deserved, Let storms blow high or low ; .Ami oft his body sore exerted To oblige both friend and foe. By land or sea we always found him Jolly, kind and bluff; But now, alas I old age has crown'd him: Poor old Robin Duff ! Then lee us all a lesson borrow, And do the best we can ; To ease the load of care and sorrow, Of the poor old Ferryman. And when at last his duty's over, We'll raise this epitaph Here lies beneath this green grass cover Kind old Robin Duff! JOHN HILL, JUN. SONGS AND VERSES BY THE LATE JOHN HILL, JUN. SCOTTISH MINSTRELSY. WELCOME again, my rustic lyre ! Though weak thy sound and void of fire, Untuned, untutored, every string, Much pleasure to this heart you bring. Much joy affbrd'st when gathering night Succeeds the sinking oib of light, When soars the moon with livid glare Along the sky, till day appear ; When switching showers of pelting rain Batter against the window pane ; And trees are torn by howling blast, That rends the sail and racks the mast ; When those who sail tempestuous seas Know not the landsman's homely ease ; As by his cozy, pleasant hearth, Safe sheltered from the storms of earth, In thought he soars on wings along And breathes the bracing charms of song ; Then does the lyre with thrilling spell The thoughts of outward gloom dispel. 20 SONOS AND VERSES. As a fond child finds music in A piece of tinkling brass or tin Enough to charm his heart as much As instruments of higher touch, So oft the simplest efforts give The purest song destined to live ; And bards who least have courted fame, Unconsciously have made a name. So not from richest homes on earth Come joys that are of heavenly birth ; Nor aye from grandest instrument Is most affecting music sent ; Nor are the joys of him more great Who sings to please the court and state Upon a harp of purest tone, Than humble swain's, who loves his own, Who sings to while the time away, Though wild his harp, uncouth the lay. Auld Scotia knows to this belongs The independence of her songs ; The plainness of her strains impart The pure emotions of the heart, With powers of an alluring spell That to succeeding ages swell, And there find, though not undeserved Their greater need to be preserved. When first the heart essays to time Its inmost feelings into rhyme, Shakes the young hand that strikes the string Quivers the voice that apes to sing. Doubts and misgivings waken fear, When first his thoughts in type appear; And should some piercing, heartless eyes, Them too severely criticise, And by upbraidings chill the fire, That once made dear to him the lyre, He bursts the strings ; burns many a lay, And throws in rage his harp away. SONGS AND VEfiSES. 21 Thus many a harp of accent crude Is shaken in the sprouting bud ; And many a bard of small pretence Receives a heartless recompense ; And often many a pithy rhyme Is only framed to while the time ; And when the woods in darkness sleep, And echoes only company keep, Spent on the gale is many a lay That, ne'er repeated, dies away. But while we much lament the loss Of songs nipped by an early frost ; Deplore the spirit that would keep Auld Scotia's powers of song asleep ; Would ne'er the slumbering babe awake, And pleasure in its training take ; O, Caledonia thou canst boast Of songs that never can be lost ! And in thy mountains, dells, and streams Thou still can furnish myriad themes. O Scotia ! land and theme of song, To thee rare mountain gems belong ; Thine own the laurelled, thrilling strains That echoed o'er a hundred mains, Thrill to the core the native heart Of sons who live from thee apart ; And makes them oft in foreign strand Weep for thy joys, thou rugged land. Songs of the mountain and the wild ! Sweet as the breath of new-born child, Dearer to him than foreign strain, You waft him to his home again. Though wild and stem your place of birth, Sweeter than other songs of earth ; Dearer than lays of genial clime Breathed 'neath the shade of palm or vine ; Chanted 'mid scenes of fairy hues, 'Neath cloudless skies of fairest blues, 22 tiUNGti AA-D VERSES. On scraggy cliff, in weird ravine. On heath-clad hill, or lofty Ben, By roaring floods, by eddying streams, There thy war songs, there love's fond dream In echoes wild, on raving gale, 'Mong caves replying to its wail, Have oft, in. rustic fancy dressed, Took song-like form within the breast. 'Tis true thou hast no Naples Bay, Nor falls aught like Niagara ; Nor hast thou here such balmy clime Enough to raise the tender vine ; Nor can'st thou boast of verdant plain Like to the land of sunny Spain ; Or skies that vie in purity With those of southern Italy ; Thou hast not got a coral reef, Nor yet a peak like Teneriffe ; Nor aught so vast as glassy Blanc, Where sweeps the avalanche along, Bearing destruction in its train To many a reckless, daring swain ; Where the St Bernard spaniels whine Around their master's ghastly shrine ; Still constant, though his cheek be blanched, Hid lamp in hand and life both quenched. Yet oft upon thy rugged form Has shepherd, taken in a storm, After wild wandering to and fro, Been vanquished by the blinding snow ; While 7 mid the storm of doubling force, His collie howls, nor leaves his corse, Unless, when bursts the peerless gloom, To whining seek his mountain home, Where sits his dame and prattling child, Alone upon the moorland wild, And raise with howls the dire alarm, Kind, though abrupt, her husband's harm. SONGS AND Thou canst not show basaltic pile To equal those in Erin's isle ; Nor yet canst point to frozen seas, With bergs that chafe the sailor's ease, Empyrean cities of the deep, By grandeur wrapt in power asleep, Which hand of man ne'er framed nor shaped, In countless hues by Nature draped ; A grand ideal of heavenly place Afloat upon a sea of grace, And the low moan, as heaves the shelf, Seems the Creator's voice itself. But these are scattered o'er the earth, One country cannot show all forth ; Each has grand wonders of its own, (Though oft themselves they stand alone) ; While scores of beauties thou canst boast From storm-rent peak, to rock-girt coast. Have not thy battlefields been famed For grandeur wild in history named ] Have not thy mountains grim and great (That, mirrored deep in placid lake, Appear to span both earth arid sky With tapering arms of majesty) Brought thousands from all distant shores To wondering view thy native stores 1 To range thy Trossachs with delight When tipped the woods with varying light \ Or view from high uneven brake, Where dwelt the Lady of the Lake ; And see the prince-sought, storied isle Upon the surface sleeping smile I How sweet, by ever- purpling rill, To wander up the dewy hill ; To gaze on Nature all day long, And vent your meed of praise in song ! How beats the heart when pleasing notes Strike in accordance with the thoughts ! 24 SONGS AND VERSES. When the wild, raving winds blow loud And clear the sky of watery cloud, And climbing high on mountainous land You view beneath your feet the strand That, rising from the azure deep, Seems in a tranquil rest asleep, A land too good for human-kind Where angels might a dwelling find I How sweet to muse on native themes ; How grand these awe-struck sleepless dreams ; How fraught with poetry's warmest glow The heights above the plains below ! Say can these fail response to find In deepest poetry of the mind 1 How grand, when all is grand around, When glens re-echo with the sound Of waterfalls, that prancing ride In torrents down the mountain side, To gaze, from high and heathery moor, Upon the waves that lash the shore ! There sky, and sea, and isle, and bay In beautiful perspective lay : Their rugged rocks asunder tore The seething waves that wildly roar ; While but an hour before there played A gentle zephyr through the shade, That scarcely stirred the fleece of lamb, Scarce dimmed the sea serene and calm ; Or moved a cloud through endless space, Scarce waved the grass, or fanned the face. O'er heathery knowe peeped cautious deer Swiftly to turn and disappear ; And from the moor the weird curlew Of peesweeps, rang the gulleys through ; While on the shore tall herons stood 'Mong rocks and wreck in search of food. Slowly the infant wind grows strong, Slowly, but surely sweeps along, Weakly at first, though gathering force SONGS AND VERSES. 25 Troubling the sea in maddening course: Making the lamb once wandering wide Closely crouch to its mother's side ; While home the strong winged herons fly Swift to their mountain heronry. Then comes the thought, when at its height, Thus calumny gains strength of flight, And steals in gathering force along, On pinions time makes doubly strong, Till once it coils, and writhes and bays On him 'gainst whom it has been raised ; And threatens, with its ven'mous breath, His moral character with death ; Till met by constant upright heart It surging swells, then bursts apart, And shoots its shattered, harmless spray, Which lacking strength soon dies away And, like the waves that sweep the shore, Leaves it more beauteous than before. Such themes thy sternness oft suggests, And stirs to song thy native breasts. Nor can her bards their harps unstring, And warlike deeds refrain to sing \ Should gallant deeds of chivalry Be left unsung in poetry ] Or should her ancient tales die out, Or lie and crumble into doubt, When, by the minstrel's ready lyre, These tales might yet thy sons inspire I No wonder then each humble bard Should make his song of praise be heard, On themes which buoy his feelings high, And thrill his heart with ecstasy ! No wonder he, thy son inspired, With patriotic ardour fired, Should sing, to charm the poet-souled, Thy glorious victories of old ! When to the field of battle led, 2(3 80NG8 AND VJB&8E8. Of liow she fought, how fighting bled ; When Edward witii unbridled pride Would fain the northern Lion guide ; Of how she stayed the tyrant's hand That weaned to rule her rugged land, And with her patriots overturned The haughty foe at Bannockburn. Or should they think of Flodden-field And mourn that Scotia's squadrons reeled, How could in sympathetic strain Her patriot bards from song refrain 1 Yet turn and look upon the mounds That meet the eye sweet Largs around, Where mouldering bones of foemen lie, Worn monuments of victory ; There can be traced our country's claims, To having burst the Norsemen's chains. When Haco, rushing to the fight, Saw all his naval pomp and might, On howling sea, 'neath frowning heaven, In one short morn to shatters driven ; While on the strand his warriors lay In myriads round the foam-fringed bay, The victims of the avengers' hand God and the chieftains of our land. O ! how her grand old songsters tell Of bloody wars where thousands fell ; Of how the spear and broad claymore, The enemy's ranks asunder tore ; Of where the pibroch's martial strain Has echoed 'mong the heaps of slain ; Of clan disputes and civil broils, Of border raids for lawless spoils ! And if from fields where carnage gleams We turn our eyes to simpler scenes, What wealth of poetry we possess ! What strains of loving tenderness I What pathoa draped in homely guise Our country customs underlies ! r AND VERSES. 27 Hear her brave sons in plain attire Around the cheerful farmhouse fire, When from their homes around have met A crowd each other's news to get, Telling how lands derived their name, And how to so-and-so they came ; For actions done for country's good, How such an one got many a rood : And how, released from yonder height Where'er the hawk should first alight, These were his lands law gave the word, This did decide the King's award. Or, who of all the gallant knights Who fought for Scotia and her rights, Should first with arrow from the bow The startled hare on field lay low ; And when an arrow pierced it through The eager knights the sequel knew ; They bore the victor in the air, And vowed his lands exceeding fair. The arrow smeared with blood the while, By one and all examined well, Was given a trophy to the maid Who o'er the heather spurred her steed, And nearest kept the keen pursuit, On well-reined steed and swift of foot, And oft the arrow has presaged The tenderer barb that hearts besieged. Thus are traditions, tho' unsung, (liv'n to each age from tongue to tongue, And tales are told with fearsome glare, Enough to raise a townsman's hair ; Of ruins ruled by ghost and sprite, Of yells oft heard at dead of night ; How high o'er head these spirits climb, And bells unpulled are heard to chime ; How wraiths and apparitions rose In ghastly form before the nose, And deadlights cast a sickly glare 28 SONGS AND VERSES. From, haunted vault beneath the stair ; How kelpies skimmed on placid stream Beneath the horn'd moon's livid gleam ; How hairy imps with fork-like tail Belated travellers assail ; And far overhead are heard the cries Of spirits whirring through the skies. To Burns, Auld Scotia's bard, belong The pal in of all her native song ; He nature saw as only he Her truest character could see. The meekest flow'ret of the bank He made to claim an honoured rank ; To creatures dumb he gave a speech That might the higher beings teach. On History's strange connecting link, On old traditions nigh extinct, On lawless raid or bloody fight His muse seemed loathe to wing its flight. He sang of scenes 'mid which he walked, He sang of those to whom he talked ; To weakest things his heart was moved, He sang the age in which he lived ; And seldom raked up wars and strife, Content to sing of human life ; And human nature he best knew Who saw its every working through, Who oft with it had gone astray, The cries of nature to obey. But lay this not sore to his charge, His mind was great, his heart too large, Unknown to him the miser's grape, Unknown alike, the temperate ; Yet not to poverty unknown, When from his purse the coin had gone. His was the great yet lovely mind, Convivial soul, by far too kind. Enjoyed our bard the " merry core " SONGS AND VERSES. Met at the inn for evening splore ; And here his ever piercing views .Found ample range to vent the muse. And though he did partake among Those "droothy " bees that round him clung, That sucked the honey of his pay, Such happens at the present day ; Unchallenged, tho' well known the same ; Not so with those acquaint to fame. Let but a crowned monarch bend To deeds performed by other men, Then list the voice of public wail And hearing take as true the tale : Though it would have him rule with tact 'Twould have him neither think nor act ; And tho' 'tis well at times to brand Weak deeds with public reprimand ; Can it be well to hear it rung A luscious sweet beneath time's tongue 1 Nay, rather hush tho babbling bill; Act by the good, o'erlook the ill. By silent Doon he roamed and sung, The thorn his harp with light bough strung ; And the bonnie birds that on them swing Leaping like fingers from string to string, Vibrate the cords of his heart that roll The fullest current of his soul. What you enjoy he paid for dear, Let this suffice to turn a sneer, And when his work you oft peruse Kind reader, pause awhile and muse : Think of the hours at mid-night spent, Dreaming in ong, toil worn and faint, Eager in brain if not in hand An honest pittance to command. Think of his hard and luckless fight Stern disappointment's galling bite, Then tho' you can't him now repay, A tear drop, to his memory. so soifffS Ayn VERSES. Fame lured him to her stately bower, Made him ascend her lofty tower, Leave the imprint of his lofty brain High up the tower as his mind could strain, Opened to him her courted door, Bade him ne'er mind the coat he wore, Led him throughout her spacious halls Sparkling with gems her stately walls. Here shone the genius of Shakespeare's soul, Brightest of all the countless roll ; There burned the power of Milton's fire ; Here dwelt the charm of Ossian's lyre, And all round the hall old harps unstrung Told who beneath this shrine had sung. O what a sight for poet's eye, Genius by genius flitting by ; All the array of a country's worth Living for aye in the poet's earth. Fame bending lowly at his feet Strewed in his path her laurels sweet, Ba^le him in all her wide domain Join with his power that mighty train, Koam through her walks of beauty fair Where sweet flowers scent the quiet air, Sport where the breathing zephyr plays, In sunshine glare, or rainbow's rays, And sing in cool secluded shade Of plans of sage and loves of maid. Fame hovered 'neath his homely roof, Brought him a name, but nothing more, Watched him resign his life in gloom, Followed his body to the tomb, Strewed o'er his grave her honours great, Lavished her wealth by far too late. When in the east Scott rose in might, He wrote of broils, he sang of fight, He wrote of Scotia's rugged peaks, Of mountain passes and of brakes ; SONGS AND VERSUS. He sang of deeds of valour done in ages past, of victories won ; He wrote of prince, ho sang of knight, Long famed in many a bloody fight : He sang of lore and chivalry, He sang of Scotia's liberty. His wondrous mind the germ contained Of all that sterling honour claimed ; A proper type of golden sort Firm, true and kind, and fond of sport. Amid the autumn of his life Death came with keen and certain knife, Squashed all his hopes of honour then, Arrested there the mighty pen That strove with manly, sweeping pace A luckless venture to replace. Alas ! too few like him we meet In country home, in field, or street ; And while we mourn there are so few Some other bids the ranks adieu ! The border minstrelsy had nigh Died from the oldest memory, When Hogg arose by Ettrick's stream To bring to health it's shatter 'd frame. Nursed in Ettrick's forests wild, By nature tutored nature's child, A gentle boy, tho' roughly clad, A boy who wore the crook and plaid, He rose to manhood's triple-ten Ere he could weild the mighty pen. His toil amid the mountains lay, 'Twas there he courted minstrelsy ; 'Twas there in nature's comely face In raptures he her charms could trace. With copy laid upon the hill 'Twas there he learned to use the quill, 'Twas there he tried, ther/e persevered, Until the art he had secured, 32 SONGS AND VERSSS. Then from the oldest in the land He gathered in with searching hand, Stories of love, of war, of fame Tales of the mountain and the glen. Of these he sans: in rapturous tone, His thoughts a world all of their own ; To him the heavenly canopy And wilds resounded poetry. He also felt the sharp recoil Of blasted prospects, propped by toil, And when his life was on the wane With mental ardour strove to gain, What through his life had oft been scant. Those kindly pounds which baffle want. But he had entered in the ring Where poets strive, but strive to sing ; And few there be who battle there More telling evidence can bear Than in imaginary dreams Of thousands flowing past in streams, Tho' they ne'er ripple on their shore Nor lip the kerbstone at their door ; Where they might dip with open hands, Of wealth, life's luxuries commands. And when arose in majesty, The bard who roamed in Craig-a-lea, When Tannahill Bang at the loom Amid misfortune's gathering gloom, Auld Scotia heard her poet's praise Sung in the simplest thrilling lays. The loom's dull, steady- rocking noise Followed the warblings of his voice, While in the woods he filled the air With words that spoke of nature fair. Unhappy end to brief career ! A self-sought grave, to him more dear Than life on disappointment's wing, Or bitter millings' cutting sting. SONGS AND 1'ERSES 33 A brook with deepening bed contained All that of Tannahill remained. And in the north good Lady Nairne Sang not the glare of fame to earn, On labour's humbliest, homeliest ways She tuned the moral of her lays ; And gave the world such wholesome song As Scotia shall remember long. This lady, tho' of high degree, Sang Scotia's phraseology, And ne'er sang in the polished tongue That to that higher class belong, But in Auld Scotia's broadest twang She of the humbler customs sang. And then came Allan Cunningham The poet- boy who hewed the stone, Who rose to take an honoured stand Amongst the minstrels of the land ; Who, on his harp, with fancy strung, Of Scotia's sweetest beauties sung In strains of marked simplicity And warmth of native poetry. And then the many minstrels more That Scotia's charms in verse adore, That roll around these planets bright Like lesser stars reflecting light, That sang her legendary tales Of mountain passes, brakes, and fells ; Of acts of valour and of might In Scotia's struggle for her right ; Of stalwart son, of blooming maid, Of love in lonely forest shade. These good old minstrel souls have gone In other scenes to sing and roam ; And now we've but their works and names To tell us of the good old times, c 34 SONGS AND VEItSES. When Burns, and Hogg, and Cunningham In Scotia's broadest language sang. THE TWA BURNS. Gogo. My ancient Men', it's noo a while Since we an e'enin 7 did beguile In crackin' o 7 the toun's affairs Her kirks, her graveyairds an' its lairs ; But, by-the-by, I'm quately tauld, Tho' scarcely twenty simmers auld, For walks, an' stanes, an' shrubbery, There's ne'er a prettier cemetery ; An' great the change ! in a' the toun You'll no find ane tae rin it doun. We baith hae miii' the unco blast That filled the sails o' law at last (Tae whispers low we needs must keep, For tounsfolk arena' yet asleep) But don't you think Largs folk a race Weel versed in litigation's case, An' far too fond, ere things are right, T' immortalise them wi' a fight ? Noddle. Guid frien', I much enjoy your crack, Tho' datin 7 mony summers back, An' unco glad I am tae know't, The graveyaird's sicna pretty spot. But is'tna sad the bonnie stanes Should mean as mony lifeless banes ] Which brings the thocht, that joy's oft built 'Mid scenes o' riot and o' guilt, And pleasure oft is keenly sought, Tho' at the expense o' conscience bought, But, layin' by these sad "asides," What think ye o' the mony strides The townsfolk hae o' late been takin' SONGS AND VERSES. 35 In water an' in burgh-makin' 1 The first this nicht we'll hae rehearsed ; In water we should be weel versed. An', since your nearest tae the toun, An' kens the sough o' a' aroun', I'se ask ye tae lead aff the crack, An' then I'll follow at thy back. Gogo. I'm laith tae say I maun decline Tae draw my army first in line, Since you proposed the theme o' talk, You first should make, I stand, the shock ; I ken ye're Tory, every stane, Which just means lettin' things alane. But my aim's ever " Forward, ho ! " An', mind, I'm doubly blessed with " go ; " Now, as change follows what we change, Defence of it should after range \ So you shall kindly tap the spring Of argument's meandering, Of whether water's truly needit : I give you ample rein to plead it. Noddle. My honest frien', you wi' a spate My inmost thochts anticipate, And yet you glide sae subtly roun' The little stanes o' reason soun'. Your volume canna greater be Than mine, that's saunt'ring tae the sea ; Thus matched, I'll be the first tae draw, The first tae rise p'r'aps first tae fa'. In sooth, I've often wunnert why Folks canna let a year gae by Without some ill-timed, skinny plan That barely on its legs can staun', That brays mair noisily than Ned, The donkey triat all know's ill-fed, Or like a toom barrel's moaning swoop, Who's only worth's in stave an' hoop. 36 SONGS AND VERSES. But tae begin about the matter Hoo can the tounsf oik need new water 1 We baith ken that there's lots o' springs That frae the hills augment our streams ; An' 'twixt our bounds the same exist, An' lots o'" wells are sunk, I wist. The Indian, Esquimaux, an' squatter, A' trust tae Nature's wells for water, An' happier they by far, I wean, Than lands where we're boiled into steam. Gogo. Time, time, I ask ; one pro is gone ; Now let me to it breathe my con. No doubt, in primitive abode Caie seldom dare her face intrude ; But roll through Indian camp your swell, There sweep the filth and drown the smell, An' I'll be bound you'll bless the hour That placed such work within your power Call it a message sweet of grace To cleanse and pwrify a race. But our toun's no like Indian camp, It's no owre dry, nor yet owre damp, Its wells they've marked " Unfit for use," Through bein' assailed by some refuse That permeates and putrifies, Till animalculi all dies, An' leaves but o' disease a breeder Tae Death's wide jaws a constant feeder. Noddle. I'm no aware, my hearty frien', That ony fell disease there's been Since Cholera, wi' breathin's rank, Made folk pitch tent abune my bank ; Nor have I heard o' Death's grim scouts Been makin' ony sweepin' routs, Through fever, small-pox, or the like, Or any other ravenous tyke. Why, therefore, raise a great harangue ? 80 VGS AND VERSES. 37 She's been their servant true and lang, Noo she's discarded in auld age Because that " changes " are the rage. Of course they say she's auld an' fousted, Tinctured with aoids, 'gealed an' rousted ; But this I'll say without confusion, Water's like whisky, richt slow poison ; If we may by the average age, Our premises to reason gage. Now, ere in reservoir an' filter, Vermin are drowned helter-skelter, Dogs, cats, an' weasels, by the score ; Moles, hedgehogs, mice, an' moiiy more. Ere tae the toun rins this decoction, Throvigh pipes corroded wi' obnoxion, I'm feared the water be mair brown That what lies buried ; neath the town, An' likelier far tae sicken, kill, Than Nature's spring's o' Adam's yill. I therefore muckle grudge the stream Their ruthless hauns hae frae me taen, For noo its course down tae my bank, Will just breed pois'nous weedlings rank. Gogo. Noo, that is wrang, my neighbo'i burn, Tae grudge a toun a friendly turn, You quite forget the Bible speaketh, " There is that scatt'reth, yet increaseth ; " An' my experience has been A turn's no lost dune tae a frien', Thus copious floods I aye supply Through pipes led to the village nigh, An' mony years in rains, in heats, Have wimpled gently down its streets ; An' great reward I've always found In thankful hearts admiring round. What can it hap to you or me, The deeper flood, we roll tae sea ; For tho' W3 flow 'mong beauteous turns, 38 SONGS AND VERSES. We, at the best are nocht but burns. Can we before an ocean boast, With mouths that scarcely break it's coast 1 'T would be like spitting in the air When snow is falling everywhere, Or blowing with one's might and main When swirls the howling hurricane. 'Tis better, then, to help in need, Than unrequiring oceans feed, To share our wealth with liberal hand, Than hoard to boast of miles of land ; For, after all, 'tis but a grain That scarce can sink in boundless main. But pardon this digressive clatter, Frae earth and air I'm back to " water," An' much I fear the analysis That you have made too dismal is, For larger touns have proved it sure That water can be had quite pure, Though led through pipes a hundred miles 'Neath " mosses, waters, slaps, an' stiles." Noddle. In faith I hate thae modern truck, Pipes, reservoir, an' aqueduc', An' ne'er wad grant sic trash a place, Distortin' Nature's comely face. I ken ye're 1100 a modern burn, I'm primitive at every turn, An' gliding on, I sing my tune Tae farmer's boy, or light of moon. An' you have been embanked an' trimmed, Huge boulders lifted, channel cleaned ; Dwellings approach to both your banks Like troops in skirmish and in ranks, While trees me nearest company keep With mornin' song or evenin' sweep. These modern things hae changed your tune From song of wild to chant of toun ; But I, 'mid beauteous scenery, SONGS AND VERSES. Contentedly meander by, Wandering slowly tae the sea, Thinkin' o' nane nane think o' me. There's ne'er a footway on my banks, But bush and tree, in broken ranks, An' here an' there, at distance reared, A hamely house wi' clean farmyaird, An' mansions two o' ancient cast : One ages old ; two years the last. Thus little of life's toil I know, An' great's the pleasure when you throw A whisper ower the toun tae me, Tae speak out baith our minds sae free, An' pass an e'enin' wi' a croon Ower things transpirin' in the toun. But 1100 the hour o' twal* has struck, Guid nicht ! in " water," here's guid luck, I hope we'll ne'er sic strangers be Whether we meet in air or sea. Gogo. Sae be it, Men', but ere we part I'd breathe a wish, frae depth o' heart, That when this water scheme's complete, 'Bove crosses that it yet may meet, By self (like our neat cemetery That's buried animosity), It may drown every party strife, An' o' ill feelin' tak' the life, An' be admired frae hill tae sea, Frae Brisbane glen tae Kelburne lea. OLD JOSEPH'S DREAM. As crows fly home to seek their nest, So fly the season's swift to rest ; As sleeps the bird upon the brine So likewise each becomes his reign. Stern Winter on his icy throne 40 SONGS AND VERSES. When snows are come and sunshine gone, Seems not less grand than Summer's seat When rides the sun in glorious state ; Nor Autumn less, with waving corn, Nor Spring, when birds and buds are born, All in their reign the power portray Of God's unfailing majesty. December days were ebbing fast The clock had ushered in the last ; And as a candle quicker burns When dim and near the end it turns. So seemed each day to swifter fly Adown the stream of things gone by, When round the fire old Joseph drew A hoary sage in years not few And to his family does unfold A dream full fifty summers old, In strains of tempered eloquence, Inspiring all with reverence : " The Spring had passed, the Summer gone And Autumn's whirling leaves had flown ; And Winter nigh to rest had passed With weak'ning pace declining fast. The days were bleak, the evening's chill, And frosts an^l snows lay on the hill ; And many a care the shepherd had Of scores astray by snow o'erclad, And wily traits he needs must know To save them from the piercing snow, And hollows deep and rocky cliff All levelled by the searching drift, Of which in summer he makes boast Now share his dark forebodings most. " 'Twas on the year's expiring day While on my couch I dreaming lay, Upon a hill niethought I stood SONGS AND VERSES. 41 O'erlooking town, and vale, and wood ; When poured from out the haunted tower A gushing sound the eleventh hour. " The heavens, as I deeper dreamed, With parchment rolls o'ercovered seemed, One end of which looked soiled and grey The other glitt'ring brilliantly. " Upon this wondrous scene I gazed In wrapt enchantment past amazed, The rolls like lightning flitted past Each as it came appearing last Most densely shrouded in the gloom Still others in the distance loom And 011 they roll, each seeming more Enveloped than the one before. " At first methought the vision meant A Bible scene, to represent The heaven-born books of prophets old On parchment written, firmly rolled. " As coward watching for a chance, First seeming bold, oft turns his glance, So back my steps I sought to trace But found I could not move a pace. " While thus alarmed I viewed the scene With wond'rings what it all could mean ; The rolls like lightning flashing smart Or meteors as they earthward dart Rolled, sweeping wildly through the sky As driven by machinery. But suddenly all seemed to halt As if the workings were at fault, As if they stopped more strength to gain More fiercely to renew again. 42 SONGS AND VERSES. " Then on a roll I fixed my gaze Which seemed most free from gloom or haze ; Upon one end I saw methought Black spots as in the writing blot, While all the others pure appeared Except the next, but slightly smeared. " I strove to check my reeling brain, If but a second's thought to gain ; But thrilled by its o'erpowering sway I stood, nor could I haste away, When once again from out the tower There swelled a sound another hour, With sadd'ning drawl they hither come Like peals rolled from a muffled drum ; This was the hour that shut the door Then opening to another year. " The breeze had scarcely hushed the sound, When o'er the scene a light shone round ; And as the chill winds of the hour Refreshed my sweating brow once more. " A maid of fancy's rarest choice Borne on the wind's soft-swelling voice, Sailed downward on a wreathy cloud And passed the mound whereon I stood So near, her soft attire me fanned. I felt as if a spectral hand Had clasped me firmly as if death Was slowly sucking out my breath. " She passed, and sailed into the air A comely maid, surpassing fair, While round her form a charm did float Like silent ripples round a boat. Bouyed in mid-air by the breeze She floated with becoming ease ; In her right hand a seal she swayed, SONGS AJSD VERSES. 43 Her left, a rod of wax displayed ; And twining through her waving hair A wreath o'erfringed her brow so fair. " Upon a slab of marble high Borne by the clouds into the sky ; The maiden laid the seal with care And mounted higher in the air. " From off the moon, then looking pale, There dropped a sheet like to a scale, Which soon the maiden saw descend, And quickly grasped it in her hand. While rolling it she on did fly Still higher in the wintry sky ; Then lit the wax upon the moon And stamped what it contained in gloom, And vanquishing amid the wind Left neither trace nor track behind ; While on a huge cloud's feathery crest The roll was borne among the rest. " As shirks the vile the sacred place So shirks the good the haunts of vice, Not knowing how to read this trance, I quaked with fear in ignorance ; And made again to find my way But nought but mist around me lay, And groping round to find a mark As doth a child when all is dark, Ere one short step I could retrace I swooned and fell upon my face. " On getting round, the maid had come, More dazzling light upon her shone, Her hand to me was freely given, I felt as but a step from heaven, A charm enwrapt me as a plaid ; And raising me the maiden said ;- 44 SONGS AND VERSES. " ' See'st thou these rolls that dangle high ] These rolls are years now passed away. Time is my name ; the first I grasped, And through my hands nmst come the last. What draws thine eye to yonder side ^ ' * That dismal cheerless space/ I said. * That space is called Eternity, This scene above is memory. That new roll is the bygone year, Which on thy memory is most clear. The bright ends of the rolls contain Those now enlisted in Christ's train, They sparkle in the moon's pale beam, But they shall yet more glorious seem. The dark contain chose names now joined The devil's ranks for ever damned, These spots that all the surface smear Are sins committed year by year.' " " Alarmed, I did the maid implore To waft the roll my birth that bore ; If on the bright side or the dark My life had oft 'nest gained a mark. But she said : ' Nay, by God revealed Shall be these rolls which now arc seal'd On that great day ha shall proclaim On which side does appear thy name. Then, frail man, live in hope, thy years Strive for the best dispel thy fears ; Give to thy name such graceful light That shall it place upon the right, In case it be the left upon Of those thy years already gone. u < Remember, I will never die, I'm bound close to Eternity ; So profit by me as I pass Adown the limits of thy glass \ Remember me as oft's you may SONGS AND VERSES. 45 For my wings Lear the fatal day, When from life's cell thy soul shall fly To meet thy God, whose searching eye Can never favour rich or poor, Yet welcomes all to seek His door. " ' Then shall it unto thee be given To see the glorious courts of heaven ; And well if thou wilt there remain And hears this sung in grandest strains Come live in heaven f th rough endless years Free from all sins, all strifes, all fears ; Then go, your heart to God incline, And ponder well the voice of Time/ " While upward she her path did trace I strove her fair form to embrace ; This but awoke me from my dream Unto a deeper sense of sin. The van that rattled on the street Told that the year had met its fate." Thus spoke old Jeseph, and with sweat His brow like dewy morn was wet ; Tho' they to him were dews of even Shower'd on a soul prepared for heaven ; Death cut the thread -Time passed between Ere scarce was told his secret dream. JAMIE'S REFORMATION. A SANGUINARY BALLAD. O, canty was the wooin' WT Jim and bonnie Jean, For towmonds three, they did agree Tae stare in ichers' een. 46 SOAGS AND VERSES. courtship was mair happy, Nor free frae words o' strife ; An' Jamie has, tae crown their joys, Made Jean his happy wife. Wi' mair than ord'nar grace, auld wives Approv'd their being married, An 7 a' their virtues were extoll'd As they'd been newly buried ; The lassies roun', an' in the town, Vow'd them a sonsie couple ; While Jamie heard thae stories a' Wi' shy assenting chuckle. As laden bees maist hurried fly To store their loads o' treasure, So seemed the years on wings o' joy To swifter glide in pleasure. A farm weel stocked, a' things gaun richt In field, in byre, an' yaird, A thrifty wife, three smilin' weans, These joys has Jamie shared. When happiness its summit shows, Pause with considerate fear, For on its other side are woes One step may bring them near. Thus Jamie, placed on pleasure's brink, Began to lose his poise, One step, he thinks, at such a height May bring far higher joys. So he's turned fond o' trysts and fairs, O' meetin' wi' a cronie, An' at the village tavern he Can stan' his roun' wi' onie. At first he keeps within the mark, An' Jeanie ne'er is crabbit ; But ane turns twa, an' twa turns three, In this debauchin' habit, SONGS AND VERSES. 47 Whiles tae a Men', aft tae his beast, For guidance he's indebted, While, wearied out wi' sittin' up, His guidwife gloomed and fretted. Next morn she speaks sae kind and free, An ? uses a' persuasion ; While Jamie, deeply grievin', hears An/ owns her sense an' reason. She plainly says "Things are gaun wrang, An' wha but you can richt them ? If you turn roun' frae wife an' weans, How can the world but slicht them ] But stop the dram, an' bide at ha me, An' save your house frae ruin ; Then will we baith as happy be As when we gaed a-wooin'." Her kindly words aft made him greet, Then he'd vow reformation ; But in the toun he quite forgot His dark'ning situation. Thus daily worse his matters grew ; His wife, nigh broken-hearted, Regrets the day she took the vow, And frae her faither parted. Tae raise some cash, the butcher's brocht Tae kill auld crook'd-horned Crummie, An' Jamie tae the fair has gaen, An' ta'en awa the money. At nicht he's back, fou as a beast, An' kens o' nocht that's doin' ; Syne Jeanie slips him tae his bed, But sune he taks a spewin'. A happy thocht strikes Jeanie noo ; She rins, tae mak' it guid, Out tae the byre wi' speed, an' brings A bowl o' Crummie's bluid. 48 SONGS AND VEESES. She wipes the vomit aff the bed, An' next the basin cleans ; Then, sprinklin' a' the mat wi' bluid, The rest in basin tooms. Next morn, when Jamie woke, he stared In deepest melancholy ; Upon his knees he fa's an' prays, Repentant of his folly ; He vows he'll ne'er taste whisky rnair, An' waukens Jean to hear o't, Points tae the bluid, an' quately says He'll need tae tak' guid care o't. Jean feigns tae sab and greet for him, Regretfu' o' his ailin', But aye consoles him wi' the thocht That care will bring a hailin'. Noo, he taks care, an'" stays at hame, A' things gang richt and happy ; But Jean a secret keeps the trick That turned him f rae the drappie. SCOTCH COUNTRY FAIRS. For language droll, and customs strange Scotland amang the first doth range, Her monthly trysts, and country fairs Where cadgers mony show their wares, Are nurses o' her fashions queer, Although they're deein year by year. There country chiels their lasses meet An' talk o' things that are fu' sweet ; There auld-wives come tae view the fashions An' wi' their neebour-friens hae clashins. There youngsters wi' a broon baw-bee Gang out the merry fair tae see, Admonished 'fore they leave the house By their auld grannies sage an' douce, SONGS AND VJSJRSJSS. 49 That if they spent that broon baw-bee Afore twal hours, she'd let them see Wi' stick or poker, taws, or belt, She'd niak' them dae what they were telPt. There lasses, wi' their packs o' woo' (Jjiug tae some cadger auld and true; An' 'fore him lay their business case, An' swap wi' him for blonde and lace. There farmer chaps wi' rabbit's plush Bargain wi' some auld wife for cash ; An' if a bargain they can mak' They'll buy some wares fae out her pack. But tho 3 there's naething strange in this There's something else that's mair amiss Like market place tae be compared, They haud it in the auld kirkyaird.* Instead o' bringin* stauns and frames They spread their gear upon the stanes, That hide frae light the mould'ring banes. Here jumping-jakes and penny dolls, An' Noah's arks, an' mares and foals ; An' mutches spruce an' aprons braw An' lace an remnants in a raw, An' candy-rock an' yellow-man, An' pears, an' plums, an' tinny cans, An' water stoups an' washin' tubs, An' bings o' walkin' sticks an' clubs ; An' two-penny whups an' penny canes Are spread upon the carved stanes, A' temptin' sair the wee bit wean Wha has a broon baw-bee tae spen. Here flies a fleein' sheugh-e-sheugh, There stauns a penny monkey-show ; * Towards the end of last century and even at the beginning of the present, this was quite common in some of the smallest villages of Scotland, ,"0 SONGS AND VERSES. An' here the merry j ing -ga- ring, An' there the twal stane boxin' ring Where members of the fistic art Knock, drive about, an' rive, and scart, Tae please the folks that roun' them crowd "Wha roar in wild excitement loud. Here trudges on an auld blin' fiddler, Scartin' the strings ower near the striddler, Skirlin' a tune wad fright a savage, Still passin' folks the din encourage. O little ken the dead below That sic a rabble, sic a show, Js goin' on abune the berth That hides them from the busy earth ; That sic a market, sic a fair {Should e'er be congregated there. Scotia's sons 1 if ye be wise Ye'll spurn sic gatherings as ye rise ; If that a fair ye still rnaun hae Or gif without a market day, Ye canna fen, Laud them wi' grace, An' ne'er sic fashions gie a place ; For gudeness kens the ill that's dune When folk's ill-failin's rise abune, The mony graces heired by Scotty, An' when wi' drink they are made happy; When they hae managed frae the barrel, How some break out, an : light, an' quarrel, An' wha's tae ken but that the knife Oft taks some harmless body's life. The minister tae mak his prayer Has tae begin before the fair, In words o' deep an' godly trite He has it doon in black an' white ; An' tae the sins the words he's fitted Before the binb hae been committed. SONGS A&D VERSES. 51 An' sae afT o' his regular track Ye put him, that his starvin' flock That month on visits never fares, For lie's ower thrang in writin' prayers ; An' thus ye gie him cause next Sunday Tae spout this prayer that 'ud reach tae Monday, An' mak' his face wane like the mime Tae compensate for a' your sin. BLUSHES. Crimson blushes love betraying ! Stealing o'er the maiden cheek, Silent speakers, cease your straying, Quit, I pray you, quit this fieak. Better far for those to flicker Like a beacon over guile, When the visage of the wicked Hides the heart-plans with a smile. Better far to be the medium Bringing evil thoughts to light, Than betoken love's enchantment Purest thoughts and dreamings bright. Cherished raptures, pleasant thinkings What can all thy blushings mean 1 Why on face are thy sensations Mirrored from the heart unseen ? Does the pearl in deepest ocean To the surface cast its ray 1 Or the gem in darkest grotto 'Bove the earth its bed bstray ] Or does gold when in earth's bosom Wear a coat its worth to find 1 Does the fruit we mostly relish Always show a comely rind 1 No ! these cast no show appearance Clear revealing all within, 52 SONGS AND VERSES. But by search have been discovered Rarest virtues to contain. Thus would I my love discover From all eyes howVer so kind ; From approved and likeliest lover Could he not more witness iind ; Did he trust too much to blushes A r oid his Iov3 were of a truth, For the heart is sick and weakly That can find no better proof. EARTH '8 AWAKENING. Earth is awakening From the wrapt slumbers of a winter long ; No trim) pet blasts proclaim, Nor cannons loud sustain, Nor earthquakes thundering crash the fact prolong, To each living thing. She, in silent inv/ard power, Unfolds her seasons' bower Of luscious fruit, of verdant leaves and flower. And, as a blushing maid, She stands before the mirror of the skies, While showers that through it float Her drooping eyelids ope In myriad buds, whose dewdrops are the eyes. And the plainest blade, With a scanty toilette's wiles, O'er her brow she chastely piles, Beneath the rainbows that reflect her smiles. Earth is awakening In the kindly arms of a lengtli'ning day ; Tho blast that sfcrippM her troos Now blows a balmy breeze. ONQS AND VERWS. r>3 Tliat stirs the yielding boughs to a sweet lay Of a joyous Spring, Of a happy Summer's reign, Of an Autumn rich in grain, Ere deep in Winter's arms she sleeps again. As after fiercest gale We best enjoy the soft sweet harmonies, 80, Winter's voice being still, We hear the purling rill Chord with the rustling of the budding trees, In echoing vale, All her new-born songsters rise, And in new-found notes rejoice, That ceo to swell one grand melodious voice. A CASE OF DOGS. " The evil that dogs do lives after them.; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Seize-her. n Our steps are dogged at every turn, This Law's a wondrous sphinx, 'Tis like an ill-contrived machine For drawing out the chinks. O, why did Rhadamanthus hope Law could be a retriever ? Did he but live in this our age He'd call her a deceiver. For every part has difFrent art To mystify the puzzle ; Once in the paws of ill-known laws, They have you by the muzzle. 54 SONGS AND VERSES. . " The world is going to the clogs," By many's said with terrier, But this decision 'gainst dogs may Make them a little merrier. " Let dogs delight to bark and bite," No more's to be a motto ; The Sheriff has quite " turned the tail" [Reversing it in toto. i Some people think a Sheriff-Sub. In legal phrase " dead letter " ; But, no ; the Sub. the pointer is, The Sheriff is the setter. Then why do people go to law Whene'er they have a sniffer, When thus the judges on the bench As wide as they do differ 1 Why throw good cash in lott'ry's bag] Of right no one's a purchaser ; There's always one left in the lurch, And so he's called the lurcher. But quarrels why bewail and sigh Why none can understand ? The land where people all agree Will be a new-found-land. THE BELL AND THE STARLING. In the belfry of the steeple, High aloft where starlings wheeple, Spoke the bell unto a starling : " Hither coine, my little darling, Tho' we cannot boast ot lungs, We at least have both got tongues. SO A C > AND VERVES. 55 Tell me, if you aught do know Why the people downbebw Cease that wan 1 ; of olden times Morn and evening warning chimes." Qnoth the little starling then : " I have been 'mong haunts of men, Wonder I have heard exprest That thy tongue should lie at lest, And thy peals in calm of night Should'st refrain to ring delight ; Or, in still and dewy morn, Cease to tell that day is born. But, tho' all lament and whine Of the silence of thy chime. None will pay don't think me rash ; You ore stopped for want of cash" Said the bell : <( For want of cash 1 Faith, I think you rather rash ; Yours is plain philosophy 'Gainst a good community. But, while I have thought it queer, Not a hundred yards from here, I've seen philosophic rockets Fired to reach the people's pockets ; Can the story then be true 1 Starling say" but off it flew. When again it sought its nest, Quoth the bell : " Before you rest, Tell me, starling, have you heard More of what we spoke, sweet bird ] " Then the starling, quite at ease, Told how, when amon^ the trees, It had heard a lover sing Since the bell has ceased to ring, Cupid had acquired the right Staying later out at night ; 5(5 SONGS AND VERSES. That this lover's little brother, Thrash'd, for being late, by mother, Had, avoiding lies to tell, Cried, " I never heard the bell." "So it seems that young and old Do not wish me to be tolled. Ah ! I thought it must be wrong, Want of money stopped my tongue ! That can never, never be, 'Mid such liberality." " Very well," quoth master starling, "What d'ye think lay't down to quarreling 1 " O, that is their very food, Lots of cash when sport is good. But. 'tis union stops thy tongue, If they'd quarrel, you would be rung. But, in sooth, I'm sorry too, Thou so little hast to do ; That the music thou can'st roll With a grand and pond'rous toll, In the calm of summer's eve, When the boats the fishings leave ; Or in smile of fragrant morn, When thou used to wake and warn ; Should'st, at last, be hushed and still, Dull and silent 'gainst thy will." LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POETICAL ALBUM You ask for a song : my old skinny Pegasus Lies breathless and stiff at the foot of Parnassus, But when, by a lady requested, he rears, His chivalry instantly runs to his ears And times the stiff clank of his metrical feet As slowly he climbs up the slippery steep. SONGS AND VERSUS. 57 Earth's happiness lies not in treasures and wealth, Nay, rather contentment, good spirits and health, In having this year what the next may require, With a crown to lay past and a shilling to spare, With a heart that ne'er grudges another's success, And in own never estimated others the less. Earth's pleasure is not in having nothing to do, Nor unbroken routine the almanac through ; But pleasure and work make a beautiful blend, Work caters for money that pleasure may spend, The one is the bush trimm'd for many an hour, The other, the beauteous and all-pleasing flower. LARGS LUGSAIL CLUB SONGS. i. Tune "The Mulligan Guards." When Britain chose the Lion to Inspire her name with might, How could she expect he'd wet his paw And go to sea to fight ; Yet this amphibious nation Unchang'cl the symbol keep ; But we have for our Lugsail Club A symbol from the deep. Chorus Then up, boys up, Hoist the " starfish " burgoo, * Blow, winds, blow, Unfurl it in the gale, While o'er the wave your challenges are borne, Ne'er let your colours fail. * Burgee of Larga Lugsail Club. 58 XOMUS AND Lugsailing is no modern art, Nor confined to our seas, But, as a fishing village, we're Made good use of the breeze, And for the first Club's cradle What more appropriate place Th in, Phoenix-like, to rise from out The customs of a race. Then up, boys, etc. With man's advent into this world Ambition also came, And it, if but employed aright, Bears an untarnished name ; Each one should strive to lead the van By all lUv-ans right and fair, And grant the same indulgence to A friend, though in the rear. Then up, boys, etc. When all our boats are under weigh And boom'd before the wind, And, scudding from the crested wave, Leave swelling surge behind. They'd almost shame King Haco's fleet For numbers and for grace ; And while we might not fight with them We'd thrash them in a race. Then up, boys, etc. To glide in a gondola 'Neath sculptured arch and pile, Is all very well for lover's sighs Beneath the pale moon's smile ; But, O ! for a fresh " sou'-wester," A good and an open sea, A friend on your track while looking back From a lugsail going free. Then up, boys. etc. SONf/SAND I ERSES SO Now let us wish the club success, Nigh to perfection's goal lii boats, equipments, skippers, crews, A good and complete whole ; And while thus pushing onward May each launch off', thus fixed That while it may be his to-day 'Twill be another's next. Then up, boys, etc. ii. Tune " You never miss the water till the well runs dry." Most people when this club was formed, Were apt to say " Beware ! " But we have prov'd, even in a race, That steersmen can take care ; And by the doings of the year I think we can lay claim To have banished those misgivings And established our name. Chorus Then heave out, bail away ! Let us swiftly glide ; Water-ballast's very bad, Then send it o'er the side. Never fear, my hearty boys, Though blowing half a gale, You'll never feel her travel Till it's gushing o'er the rail. What though our ships are very small Our sails so very large, And great's the contrast as compared With gabbart or with barge. CO SONGS AND VJBfiSBS, ***+* For cutting wind and water is Like cutting with a wedge We'd never think to use the bade As long's it has an edge. Then heave out, etc. 'Tis true we lack experience In matters of the brine, But that is never found in bowers Where scenting plants entwine. And as the boy contains the man, And facts are chained together, We'll pick them up on every tack, And gradual knowledge gather. Then heave out, etc, That human lives are precious, To us is fully known ; But then we take no passengers, So each one guards his own, And for the squalls our skipper looks With open weather eye, And slacks away and lets her shake While they are passing by, Then heave out, etc. That one be first, another last, Apart from weight or load, That some give way while others pass, Are rules of life's high road. Never think it hard, then, if one roach Twixt you and Fortune's sun, And snugly drop his anchor while Your battling's scarce begun. Chorus Then set sail, bear away At the proper time, Through life there's nothing like a start, Exact upon the line, SONGS AND VERSES. 61 And should you meet a friendly craft Upon your Aveatlier bead, Let courtesy your greeting guide While striving for the lead. THJ6 END. Printers, Larg?<