SELECTED POETRY.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IV, Issue 170, 11 February 1873, Page 7

SELECTED POETRY.

WILL! ITS TTK v.'AUR O’T. (- I b'-ui<if>r Sntnvdny Xkhl. ) i The. nicht it \v;ts Tysda.y, the third o’ the week, | The season was simme.-, an’ wed through the fuur o’t, I When Wii lie’s guiiLwifL burst in the door cheek, j Cryui Bin lor your lives, weans, your father’s the want- o’t, , Awfu’ thd wa'rtr o’t, Liu for your lives, weans, your father’s the waur lot-.” Xoo Willie, guid elleil, was the smith o’ the glen, His shop was the sky, and lie was the star o’t ; An when he foregather’d wi’ sociable ihuh, lie sometimes crap hamewards a wee thoeht Hie waur o’t, t . Canty the waur o’t; Cam’ h.appin hame late o’ niehts, stoorie the waur o’t. When V, illio was fuddled Ids tongue wagmt free. (Lie search ancient Scotland, the near "an’ the fiiur o’t-. There wasna auither could hammer like lie, When strauoht in Ins senses, or e’en when the waur o’t, . Briskly the waur o’t, Mis blow's fell like lichtnin’ when three gills the waur o’t-. But W illie’s guid-wifie was nae timid lamb, She railed at the drink, and the fash-breedin' scaur o’t; Savin, Ded to the day that ye get a bit dram, Ye maim come rowin’ hamewards hockin’ the waur o’t; Lip-fou the waur o’t, Roarin’ an' singin’ fou-, tichtly the waur o’t. “ Shame on your wrang-doings, ye stippit auld fule, Your honour's gaen doon, an’ your nailed to the spaur o’t; Frae the rise o’ the year to the fa’ o’t at Yule, It s naethin but driukin’ till your’e always the waur o’t, Thochtless the waur o’t) Fastin’ an’ tipplin’ till rag-tag the waur o’t.” “ Noo wheesht ye, noo wheesht ye, ye stoorie auld dame, An’ blame na the dram, nor the fash-breediu’ scaur o’t; fnat nieht I gat married an’ cleekit ye hame, A’ that week 1 was driukin’ an’ mortal the warned ; Blin’-foii the waur o’t; Liith, ye buckled me nicely when I was the waur o’t !”