UNSPEAKABLE SCOTS

Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnnie Groats—
A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes:
Behold his labours—
A volume padded weel wi’ “quotes”
Aboot his neighbours.
And wha should ken sae weel as he
What a’ oor fauts and failin’s be?
Has he no seen wi’ his ain ee
Auld Reekie’s lums?
Drumtochty’s kent as weel’s E.C.
And sae is Thrums.
Ou aye, there’s noucht he disna ken
O’ Scottish life and Scottish men.
Wi’ lugs attentive let us then
List to his railin’s,
And humbly set oorsels to men’
Oor mony failin’s.
The Scot, says he, is dull and dour,
Aye jealous, greedy, jaundiced, sour,
A drucken, coarse, ill-mannered boor,
Wherein one traces
Nae sign o’ Crosland’s mental pow’r
And courtly graces.
We arena gleg, we Scottish folk:
We canna catch the witty stroke
That will a Surrey Ha’ provoke,
To lauchter shakin’,
Nay, whiles we canna see a joke
O’ Crosland’s makin’.
We swear, we lo’e the barley bree,
We thieve—but, eh, sirs! how should we
Be quit o’ thae black vices he
Sae criticises,
When a’ the virtues Mr. C.
Monopolises?

“SATISFACTORY”

Mistress. “Well, Jessie, I’m going into Nairn, and will see your mother. Can I give her any message from you?”

Jessie (her first “place”). “Ou, mem, ye can just say I’m unco weel pleased wi’ ye!!”

The Day and the Deed.—A certain Scottish Presbytery were sorely dumbfounded by an answer to a request of theirs for signature to a Sabbatarian petition. The reply (translated to them of course) was Laborare est orare.

Guard (to inebriated traveller, at junction). Now, sir, all change, please.

Traveller (with dignity). D’ye ken, mon, that I’ve got a return ticket?

“ICHABOD!”

Scots Wife (to her gossip). “Ah dinna ken what’s come ower the Kirk. Ah canna bide to see oor menester spankin’ aboot on yon cyclopædy!”

A BALLAD OF EDINBORO’ TOON

The lusty sun did glower aboon,
Wi’ welcome in his cheerfu’ rays;
I walked in Edinboro’ toon,
A’ in ma caller claes.
For I had donned ma coat o’ cheiks
That cost me guineas twa an’ three.
But and ma pair o’ ditto breeks
That luiked sae pleasantlie.
On ilka breek were creasies twa;
And they did hang sae fine, sae fine,
Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’
Were nane sae fair as mine.
An’ first I honoured Geordie Street,
An’ syne I walked the Princes ane,
To gie to ilka lass a treat
An’ a’ the laddies pain.
An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair;
An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony,
Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pair
Sae canny an’ sae bonny.
I hadna walked an hour at maist,
I hadna honoured half the toon,
The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist,
An’ syne the rain cam’ doon.
An’ first the dust it gently laid,
An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies,
That loosed the cobble-stanes and played
Auld Hornie wi’ ma toggies.
O waly for ma coat o’ cheicks
That cost me guineas twa and three!
An’ waly for ma ditto breeks
Sae bagsome at the knee!
The creasies twa are past reca’
That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine,
Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’
Are nane sae puir as mine!
O fause, inhospitable toon,
I rede thee, gin I come again,
Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon,
An’ deil tak’ your rain!

INTANGIBILITY

Severe Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends). “Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnies whose feelings I can’t appeal to!”