Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/94

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THE POEMS OF BURNS.
Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,They roar an' cry a' throu'ther; The vera wee things, toddlin, rin,Wi' stocks out-owre their shouther; An' gif the custock's sweet or sour,Wi' joctelegs they taste them; Syne coziely, aboon the door,Wi' cannie care, they've plac'd themTo lie that night.
The lasses staw frae' mang them a'To pou their stalks o' corn;[1] But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,Behint the muckle thorn: He grippet Nelly hard an' fast;Loud skirl'd a' the lasses; But her tap-pickle maist was lost,When kiutlin i' the fause-house[2]Wi' him that night.
The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits[3] Are round an' round divided, An' monie lads' and lasses' fatesAre there that night decided. Some kindle, couthie, side by side,An' burn thegither trimly; Some start awa, wi' saucy pride,An' jump out-owre the chimlieFu' high that night.
Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie e'e;Wha 'twas, she wadna tell; But this is Jock, and this is me,She says in to hersel: He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him,As they wad never mair part; Till fuff! he started up the lum,An' Jean had e'en a sair heartTo see't that night.
Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie, An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt,To be compar'd to Willie: Mall's nit lap out, wi' pridefu' fling,An' her ain fit it brunt it; While Willie lap, an' swoor by jing,'Twas just the way he wantedTo be that night.
Nell had the fause-house in her min',She pits hersel an' Rob in; In loving bleeze they sweetly join,Till white in ase they're sobbin: Nell's heart was dancin at the view;She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't: Rob, stownlins, prie'd her bonnie mou,Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,Unseen that night.
But Merran sat behint their backs,Her thoughts on Andrew Bell; She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,An' slips out by hersel: She thro' the yard the nearest taks,An' to the kiln she goes then, An' darklins grapit for the bauks,And in the blue-clue[4] throws them,Right fear't that night.
An' aye she win't, an' ay she swat,I wat she made nae jaukin; Till something held within the pat,Guid Lord! but she was quaukin! But whether 'twas the Deil himsel,Or whether 'twas a bauk-en', Or whether it was Andrew Bell,She did na wait on talkinTo spier that night.
  1. ↑ They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the tap-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid. R. B.
  2. ↑ When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green, or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, etc., makes a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a Fause-house. R. B.
  3. ↑ Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and the lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be. R. B.
  4. ↑ Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn: wind it in a new clue off the old one: and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, Wha hands? i.e., who holds? an answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse. R. B.
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