Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/70

50 His hair a' lang about his bree,

His tap-lip lang by inches three—

A sleekened sort 'mon,' to pree

A' sensuality—

A droutly glint was in his e'e

An' personality.

An' day an' nicht, frae daw to daw,

Dink an' perjink an' doucely braw,

Wi' a kind o' Gospel ower a',

May or October,

Like Peden, followin' the Law

An' no that sober.

Whusky an' he were pack thegether.

Whate'er the hour, whate'er the weather,

John kept himsel' wi' mistened leather

An' kindled spunk.

Wi' him, there was nae askin' whether—

John was aye drunk.

The auncient heroes gash an' bauld

In the uncanny days of auld,

The task ance fo(u)nd to which th'were called,

Stack stenchly to it.

His life sic noble lives recalled,

Little's he knew it.