Page:Bennachie budget.pdf/4



When Friendship filled her siller tass,

For laird or cottar, lad or lass,

Langsyne naebody dared surpass

A wee drap i’ their e’e;

The eummer warmed the caudle cup,

The hame-come foamed a couthy sup,

Whaur death had laid his cauldrife grup,

They drank the kind dirgee.

As thro’ the worm the wimplin’ rill

Sac gently trinkles frae the still,

What heart could dread sae muckle ill

Could dreip frae fount sae sma’.

The rill has swall’d intil a spate,

That pours its torrents air’ an’ late,

An’ sweeps to Ruin bauld an’ blate

Beyond remeid o’ law.

For men, wi’ demon's strength an’ tongue,

Now beat their wives an’ ban their young,

Syne leave them cow’rin’, cauld, an’ clung,

An’ birl the Barley-bree;

Their wives for meat an’ claes naun drudge,

An’ leave their bairns to rake the sludge,

But lazy sots refuse to mudge

While blest wi’ ae bawbee,

Then, Scotland’s sons, the fecht maintain,

Till truth unlink the drunkard’s chain,

An’ voters send to Stephen’s fane,

Bauld meinbers true an’ leal;

Thore let them bar despotic plan,

Nor laws devise for class or clan,

Nor statesmen prop wi’ cup an’ can,

That blight the commonweal.