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Poem by Robert Anderson
The Clay Daubin
We went owre to Deavie' Clay Daubin, And faith a rare caper we had, Wi' eatin, and drinkin, and dancin, And rwoarin, and singin leyke mad; Wi' crackin, and jwokin, and braggin, And fratchin, and feightin and aw; Sec glorious fun and divarsion Was ne'er seen in castle or haw. Sing hey for a snug clay biggin, And lasses that leyke a bit spwort; Wi' friens and plenty to gi'e them, We'll laugh at King Gworge and his cwort. The waws were aw finish'd er darknin; Now, greypes, shouls, and barrows thrown by, Auld Deavie spak up wid a hursle-- `Od rabbit it! lads, ye'll he dry; `See, deame, if we've got a swope whusky-- `I's sworry the rum bottle's duin-- `We'll starken our keytes, I'll uphod us-- `Come, Adams, rasp up a lal tune!' When Bill kittl'd up ``Chips and Shavins,'' Auld Philip poud out Matty Meer, Then nattl'd his heels like a youngen, And caper'd about the clay fleer; He deeted his gob, and he buss'd her, As lish as a lad o' sixteen; Cries Wull, `Od dy! fadder's i' fettle! `His marrow 'll niver be seen!' Reet sair did we miss Jemmy Coupland-- Bad crops, silly man, meade him feale; Last Sunday fwornuin, efter sarvice, I'th' kurk--garth, the clark caw'd his seale. Peer Jemmy! of aw his bit oddments A shettle the bealies ha'e ta'en, And now he's reet fain of a darrak, For pan, dish, or spuin, he hes neane. Wi' scons, leather--hungry, and whusky, Auld Aggy cried, `Meake way for me! `Ye men fwok, eat, drink and be murry, `Wheyle we i' the bower get tea.' The whillymer eat teugh and teasty, Aw cramm'd fou o' grey pez and seeds; They row'd it up teane agean tudder-- Nae dainties the hungry man needs. Now in com the women fwok buncing-- Widout tem there's niver nee fun; Wi' whusky aw weeted their wizzens, But suin a sad hay--bay begun; For Jock, the young laird, was new wedded, His auld sweetheart Jenny luik'd wae; While some were aw titterin and flyrin, The lads rubb'd her down wi' pez strae. Rob Lowson tuik part wi' peer Jenny, And brong snift'ring Gwordie a cluff; I'th' scuffle they leam'd Lowson' mudder, And fain they'd ha'e stripp'd into buff: Neist Peter caw'd Gibby a rebel, And aw rwoar'd out, that was wheyte wrang; Cried Deavie, `Shek hans, and nae mair on't-- `I's sing ye a bit of a sang.' He lilted ``The King and the Tinker,'' And Wully strack up ``Robin Hood;'' Dick Mingins tried ``Hooly and Fairly,'' And Martha ``The Babs o' the Wood:'' They push'd round a glass leyke a noggin, And bottom'd the greybeard complete; Then crack'd till the muin glowr'd amang them, And wish'd yen anudder guid neet.
Robert Anderson's other poems:
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