Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
547 . Verses to Collector Mitchell
F
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal;
Alake, alake, the meikle deil
Wi’ a’ his witches
Are at it skelpin jig and reel,
In my poor pouches?
That One-pound-one, I sairly want it; If wi’ the hizzie down ye sent it, It would be kind; And while my heart wi’ life-blood dunted, I’d bear’t in mind. To see the New come laden, groanin’, To thee and thine: Domestic peace and comforts crownin’ The hale design. And by fell Death was nearly nickit; Grim loon! he got me by the fecket, And sair me sheuk; But by gude luck I lap a wicket, And turn’d a neuk. But by that life, I’m promis’d mair o’t, My hale and wee, I’ll tak a care o’t, A tentier way; Then farewell folly, hide and hair o’t, For ance and aye!
Ye’ve heard this while how I’ve been lickit,