THE WISE-LIKE CHAP

Aye, billies, I’m a wise-like chap, I dinna smoke nor drink, And gin I gi’e my poke a slap Ye’ll hear the siller chink. My feyther has an aicht-pair[21] fairm Weel set wi’ byre an’ stack; There’s mony will obey me An’ tak’ their pattern frae me, But Annie winna hae me An’ my he’rt’s near brak’! My Grannie’s saved a bit hersel’, She’s three-score year an’ ten, Wha’ll get the profit nane can tell (An’ yet I think I ken!) It’s fules wad cross a rich auld wife, Sae a’ her fleers[22] I tak’, An’ tho’ it’s like to pay me, Richt little guid ’twill dae me, For Annie winna hae me An’ my he’rt’s near brak’! Ye’ll mebbe mind the miller’s loon That was a fair disgrace; His auld dune hat was clour’d abune An’ mill-dust on his face. The gowk! He gaed awa to fecht And syne cam’ crippl’t back; Yestre’en he passed my Grannie Wi’ his left airm bandig’t cannie— But his richt ane happit Annie, An’ my he’rt’s near brak’!