Part 3 (2/2)
O' sike a day.
1. Than 2. Trailed 3. That
A Song 2.
Thomas Browne (1771--1798)
When I was a wee laatle totterin' bairn, An' had n.o.bbud just gitten short frocks, When to gang I at first was beginnin' to lairn, On my brow I gat monny hard knocks.
For sae waik, an' sae silly an' helpless was I I was always a tumblin' doon then, While my mother would t.w.a.ttle me(1) gently an' cry, ”Honey Jenny, tak care o' thisen.”
When I grew bigger, an' got to be strang, At I cannily ran all about By misen, whor I liked, then I always mud gang Bithout(2) bein' tell'd about ought; When, however, I com to be sixteen year awd, An' rattled an' ramp'd amang men, My mother would call o' me in an' would scaud, An' cry--” Huzzy, tak care o' thisen.”
I've a sweetheart cooms noo upo' Setterday nights, An' he swears at he'll mak me his wife; My mam grows sae stingy, she scauds an' she flytes,(3) An' twitters(4) me oot o' my life.
Bud she may leuk sour, an' consait hersen wise, An' preach agean likin' young men; Sen I's grown a woman her clack(5) I'll despise, An' I's--marry!--tak care o' misen.
1. Prattle to me. 2. Without. 3. Argues, 4. Worries. 5. Talk
The Invasion:An Ecologue
Thomas Browne (1771--1798)
Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit?--Virgil.
A wanton wether had disdain'd the bounds That kept him close confin'd to w.i.l.l.y's grounds; Broke through the hedge, he wander'd far astray, He knew not whither on the public way.
As w.i.l.l.y strives, with all attentive care, The fence to strengthen and the gap repair, His neighbour, Roger, from the fair return'd, Appears in sight in riding-graith adorn'd; Whom, soon as w.i.l.l.y, fast approaching, spies, Thus to his friend, behind the hedge, he cries.
w.i.l.l.y How dea ye, Roger? Hae ye been at t' fair?
How gangs things? Made ye onny bargains there?
ROGER I knaw not, w.i.l.l.y, things deant look ower weel, Coorn sattles fast, thof beas'(1) 'll fetch a deal.
To sell t' awd intak(2) barley I desaagn'd, Bud couldn't git a price to suit my maand.
What wi' rack-rents an' sike a want a' trade, I knawn't how yan's to git yan's landloords paid.
Mair-ower(3) all that, they say, i' spring o' t' year Franch is intarmin'd on 't to 'tack us here.
w.i.l.l.y Yea, mon! what are they coomin' hither for?
Depend upon 't, they'd better niver stor.(4)
ROGER True, w.i.l.l.y, n.o.bbud Englishmen 'll stand By yan another o' their awwn good land.
They'll niver suffer--I's be bun' to say The Franch to tak a single sheep away.
Fightin' for heame, upo' their awn fair field, All power i' France could niver mak 'em yield.
w.i.l.l.y Whaw! seer(5) you cannot think, when put to t' pinch, At onny Englishmen 'll iver flinch!
If Franch dea coom here, Roger, I'll be hang'd An' they deant git theirsens reet soondly bang'd.
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