William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
HalloweenJohn Mayne (17591836)
O
Frae Handsel-Monday till New Year,
There’s few in Scotland held mair dear
For mirth, I ween,
Or yet can boast o’ better cheer,
Than Hallowe’en.
Where priests for siller pardon crimes,
The kintry ’round in Popish rhymes
Did pray and graen;
But customs vary wi’ the times
At Hallowe’en.
Where nowther cauld nor hunger bide,
The farmer’s house, wi’ secret pride,
Will a’ convene;
For that day’s wark is thrawn aside
At Hallowe’en.
And deals round apples, pears, and nits;
Syne tells her guests, how, at sic bits
Where she has been,
Bogle’s ha’e gart folk tyne their wits
At Hallowe’en.
Puir pussy’s forced a’ night to prance
Wi’ fairies, wha in thousands dance
Upon the green,
Or sail wi’ witches over to France
At Hallowe’en.
For that’s the seat of empire there,
To co’er the table wi’ what’s rare,
Commands are gi’en;
That a’ fu’ daintily may fare
At Hallowe’en.
And a’ things are laid out o’ gate,
To ken their matrimonial mate,
The youngsters keen
Search a’ the dark decrees o’ fate
At Hallowe’en.
Gosh guide’s! what fearfu’ pranks ensue!
Some i’ the kiln-pat thraw a clew,
At whilk, bedene,
Their sweethearts by the far end pu’
At Hallowe’en.
In an auld barn a riddle lift,
Where, thrice pretending corn to sift,
Wi’ charms between,
Their joe appears, as white as drift,
At Hallowe’en.
The gates o’ ilka charm and spell.
Ance, gaen to saw hampseed himsel,
Puir Jock Maclean,
Plump in a filthy peat-pot fell
At Hallowe’en.
He frae the mire dught hardly speel;
But frae that time the silly chiel
Did never grien
To cast his cantrips wi’ the Deil
At Hallowe’en.
That thy sons walk where wisdom is,
Till death in everlasting bliss
Shall steek their e’en,
Will ever be the constant wish
of
Jockie Mein.