The tender blossom on the tree
Is half sae sweet as Mary.’”
“Calm yersel’, Duffy,” said Erchie, in dramatic alarm. “I’m no deaf.”
“That was written aboot ‘Hielan’ Mary,’” said Duffy. “He met her at Dunoon the Fair Week, and I’ve seen her monument.”
“It’s yonder as nate’s ye like,” said Erchie. “Faith! it’s you that’s weel up in Burns, Duffy.”
“Oh! I’m no’ that faur back in my history,” said Duffy, quite pleased with himself. “But I could hae sworn it was him that put thegither ‘Rollin’ Hame to Bonnie Scotland’; it’s his style. He micht be rollin’, but he aye got hame. He was a gey wild chap, Burns.”.
“I’m no’ denyin’t, Duffy,” said Erchie. “But he hadna ony o’ the blessin’s we have in oor time to keep him tame. There was nae Free Leebrary to provide him wi’ books to keep him in the hoose at nicht, nae Good Templar Lodges to help him in keepin’ clear o’ the horrors o’ drink; and Poosy Nancy’s public-hoose didna shut at ten o’clock, nor even eleeven. If Burns had thae advantages, there’s nae’ sayin’ whit he micht hae risen to; perhaps he micht hae become an M.P., and dee’d wi’ money in the bank.”
“Och! there’s worse than Burns,” said Duffy. “I was gey throughither mysel’ when I was a young chap.”
“Ah! but ye couldna hae been that awfu’ bad, for ye never made ony poetry.”
“I never tried,” said Duffy; “I was the youngest o’ nine, and I was put oot to wark early. So there wasna time for me to try and be fancy in ony wye. But a gey wild chap, Burns!”