Tune—"Jemmy Joneson's Whurry."
As aw was gannin' up the Side,
Aw met wi' drucken Bella;
She wrung her hands, and sair she cried,
He's gyen at last, poor fellow!
O, hinny Bella! whe is't that's gyen?
Ye gar my blood run chilly.
Wey, hinny, deeth has stopt the breath
O' canny awd Blind Willie.
God keep us, Bella, is that true!
Ye shurely are mistaken?
O, no! aw've left him just a-now,
And he's as deed as bacon.
Aw tied his chaffs, and laid him out—
His flesh just like a jelly—
And sair, sair aw was put about
For canny awd Blind Willie.
Then off went aw as fast as owt,
Ti see poor Willie lyin';—
When aw gat there, maw heart was sair,
Ti see his friends a' sighin'.
Around his bed they hung their heeds,
Just like the droopin' lily;
And aw, with them, did dee the syem
For canny awd Blind Willie.
Ne mair, said aw, we'll hear him sing,
Ne mair he'll play the fiddle;
Ne mair we'll hear him praise the king—
No! No! cried Jimmy Liddle.
The days are past—he's gyen, at last,
Beside his frind, Sir Billy,
That parish chiel', that preach'd se weel—
We'll mourn for him and Willie.
His bonny corpse crowds cam to see,
Which myed the room luik dowly;
And whe was there amang them, tee,
But noisy Yella Yowley;
She through the crowd did crush her way—
Wi' drink she seem'd quite silly—
And on her knees began to pray
For canny awd Blind Willie.
They tell'd us a' to gang away,
Which myed us varry sorry;
But Beagle Bet wad kiss his lips,
Before they did him bury.
He's buried now—he's out o' seet—
Then on his grave se hilly,
Let them that feel take their fareweel
O' canny awd Blind Willie.
[48] Died July 20, 1832.