HOW 'S A' WI' YE.
Air—"Jenny's Bawbee."
Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed,
A bannet happ'd my daddie's head,
Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread,
Folk scunner'd a' at tea;
When cronies met they didna stand,
To rule their words by manners grand,
But warmly clasping hand in hand,
Said, How 's a' wi' ye.
But now there 's nought but shy finesse,
And mim and prim 'bout mess and dress,
That scarce a hand a hand will press
Wi' ought o' feeling free;
A cauldrife pride aside has laid
The hodden gray, and hame-spun plaid,
And a' is changed since neebors said
Just, How 's a' wi' ye.
Our auld guidwife wore cloak and hood,
The maiden's gown was worset guid,
And kept her ringlets in a snood
Aboon her pawkie e'e;
Now set wi' gaudy gumflowers roun',
She flaunts it in her silken gown,
That scarce ane dare by glen or town
Say, How 's a' wi' ye.
I watna how they manage now
Their brides in lighted ha's to woo,
But it is caulder wark, I trow,
Than e'er it was wi' me;
Aye true unto the trysts we set,
When we among the hawthorns met,
Love-warm, true love wad scarce us let
Say, How 's a' wi' ye.
Wae-worth their haughty state and style,
That drive true feeling frae our isle!
In saxty years o' care and toil,
What ferlies do we see!
The lowliest heart a pride displays,
Unkent in our ain early days,
Ilk kind and canty thing decays,
Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.
When back we look on bygane years,
Weel may the cheek be wet wi' tears,
The cauld mool mony a bosom bears,
Ance dear to you and me;
Yet I will neither chafe nor chide,
While ane comes to my ingle side,
Whose bosom glows wi' honest pride
At, How 's a' wi' ye.
Newfangled guffs may things arrange
For further and still further change,
But strange things shall to me be strange,
While I can hear and see.
And when I gang, as I 'll do soon,
To join the leal in hames aboon,
I 'll greet them just as aye I 've doon,
Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.