[13] Fly my kite.
[14] Strong-fisted.
BAILIE BRUCE
Ye’d winder, when creation’s plan
Seems sae acceptable to man,
And the Creator, in His power,
Made brute an’ bird, an’ fruit an’ flower;
When e’en the wasps that bigg their bike
An’ clocks[15] an’ golachs, an’ the like
O’ a’ yon vairmin has their use,
What gar’d Him fashion Bailie Bruce?
He couldna thole to see a wean
Wheepin’ his pearie[16] on the green,
Nae sweethe’rts coorted but he saw
Auld Homie’s tail ahint the twa.
In godly wrath he aye wad show
His hate o’ sinfu’ men; but tho’
The wicked fled afore his face
The guid aye passed them i’ the race.
Oot frae the foremaist seat at kirk
He roared the psalms like ony stirk,
For gripp’d was he by sic a zeal
As nane but the elect micht feel;
An’ when the kirk-door plate was set,
Wi’ looks o’ pride ye’d ne’er forget,
When puir fowk laid their pennies doon
He’d gi’e his Maker half a croon.
Weel, whiles oor ancient customs change
An’ fowk accep’ what’s new an’ strange;
Oor decent plate awa was laid
For bonny baggies—English made.
Sawbath cam’ roond; the kirk was in;
The Bailie sat an’ glow’red on sin;
The Elder brocht wi’ reverent feet
His baggie to the foremaist seat.
In drapp’d the money; Bailie Bruce
Wi’ open hand an’ purse-strings loose
And e’en upliftit, kept his place;
The bag passed on its road o’ grace.
Weel was’t he couldna see the smile
That a’ yon kirk-fu’ had the while
Nor yet the Elder’s twisted mou’
That wrocht him a’ the journey through!
For oh! ahint the Bailie’s back
Was done a deed o’ shame to mak’
His righteous he’rt wi’ anger swell
Nane gie’d a bodle but himsel’!
An’ at the coontin’, plain to see,
The baggie held but ae bawbee!
His health noo gars him keep the hoose;
Losh-aye! what ails him, Bailie Bruce?
FOOTNOTES:
[15] Beetles.
[16] Whipping-top.