The Canongate Burns. Robert Burns

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The Canongate Burns - Robert Burns


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maun a’ be sought ance; shall, once

      30 They steek their een, an’ grape an’ wale close, eyes, grope, choose

      For muckle anes, an’ straught anes. big ones, straight ones

      Poor hav’rel Will fell aff the drift, half-witted, lost the way

      An’ wandered thro’ the Bow-kail, cabbage

      An’ pow’t, for want o’ better shift, pulled

      35 A runt, was like a sow-tail, small cabbage stalk

      Sae bow’t that night. so bent

      Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane, straight, dirt, none

      They roar an’ cry a’ throu’ther; pell-mell

      The vera wee-things, toddlin, rin very children, run

      40 Wi’ stocks out-owre their shouther: -over, shoulder

      An’ gif the custock’s sweet or sour, if, pith

      Wi’ joctelegs they taste them; knives

      Syne coziely, aboon the door, then, comfortably, above

      Wi’ cannie care, they’ve plac’d them gentle

      45 To lye that night. lie

      The lasses staw frae ’mang them a’, stole, from, among them all

      But Rab slips out, an’ jinks about, dodges

      Behint the muckle thorn: large

      50 He grippet Nelly hard an’ fast; gripped

      Loud skirl’d a’ the lasses; screamed

      But her tap-pickle maist was lost, top amount mostly

      Wi’ him that night.

      Are round an’ round divided,

      An’ monie lads’ an’ lasses’ fates many

      Are there that night decided:

      Some kindle couthie, side by side, warm comfortably

      60 An’ burn thegither trimly; together

      Some start awa wi’ saucy pride, away

      An’ jump out-owre the chimlie -over, fireplace

      Fu’ high that night.

      Jean slips in twa, wi’ tentie e’e; two, watchful eye

      65 Wha ’twas, she wadna tell; who, would not

      But this is Jock, an’ this is me,

      She says in to hersel:

      He bleez’d owre her, an’ she owre him, over

      As they wad never mair part; would, more

      70 Till fuff! he started up the lum, chimney

      And Jean had e’en a sair heart sore

      To see’t that night.

      Poor Willie, wi’ his bow-kail runt, cabbage stalk

      Was burnt wi’ primsie Mallie; prudish

      75 An’ Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt, no, huff

      To be compar’d to Willie:

      Mall’s nit lap out, wi’ pridefu’ fling, nut leaped

      An’ her ain fit, it burnt it; own foot

      While Willie lap, an’ swoor by jing, jumped, swore with conviction

      80 ’Twas just the way he wanted

      To be that night.

      Nell had the Fause-house in her min’, corn drying structure

      She pits hersel an’ Rob in; puts

      In loving bleeze they sweetly join, heat/flame

      85 Till white in ase they’re sobbin: ashes

      Nell’s heart was dancin at the view;

      She whisper’d Rob to leuk for’t: tasted

      Rob, stownlins, prie’d her bonie mou, stealthily, kissed, mouth

      Fu’ cozie in the neuk for’t, snugly, corner

      90 Unseen that night.

      But Merran sat behint their backs, Marion

      Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;

      She lea’es them gashan at their cracks, gabbing, conversation

      An’ slips out by hersel:

      95 She thro’ the yard the nearest taks,

      An’ to the kiln she goes then,

      An’ darklins grapet for the bauks, darkness, groped, cross-beam

      Right fear’t that night.

      100 An’ ay she win’t, an’ ay she swat, winded, sweated

      I wat she made nae jaukin; bet, no delay

      Till something held within the pat, pot/kiln

      Guid Lord! but she was quakin! shaking

      But whether ’twas the Deil himsel,

      105 Or whether ’twas a bauk-en’, end of a beam

      Or whether it was Andrew Bell,

      She did na wait on talkin not

      To spier that night. inquire/find out

      Wee Jenny to her Graunie says, grandmother

      110 ‘Will ye go wi’ me, Graunie?

      I gat frae uncle Johnie:’ got, from

      She fuff’t her pipe wi’ sic a lunt, puffed, such, smoke

      In wrath she was sae vap’rin, so, agitated

      115 She notic’t na an aizle brunt not, cinder, burnt

      Her braw, new, worset apron good, worsted/twisted yarn

      Out thro’ that night.

      ‘Ye little Skelpie-limmer’s-face! hussy

      I daur ye try sic sportin, dare, such

      120 As seek the Foul Thief onie place, any

      For him to spae your fortune: foretell

      Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! no

      Great cause ye hae to fear it; have

      For monie a ane has gotten a fright, many, one

      125 An’ liv’d an’ died deleeret, delerious/insane

      On sic a night. such

      ‘Ae Hairst


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