The Complete Works. Robert Burns

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СКАЧАТЬ type="note">[30] to stray an’ rove

      Amang the rocks an’ streams

      To sport that night.

      Amang the bonnie winding banks

      Where Doon rins, wimplin’, clear,

      Where Bruce[31] ance rul’d the martial ranks,

      An’ shook his Carrick spear,

      Some merry, friendly, countra folks,

      Together did convene,

      To burn their nits, an’ pou their stocks,

      An’ haud their Halloween

      Fu’ blythe that night.

      The lasses feat, an’ cleanly neat,

      Mair braw than when they’re fine;

      Their faces blythe, fu’ sweetly kythe,

      Hearts leal, an’ warm, an’ kin’;

      The lads sae trig, wi’ wooer babs,

      Weel knotted on their garten,

      Some unco blate, an’ some wi’ gabs,

      Gar lasses’ hearts gang startin’

      Whiles fast at night.

      Then, first and foremost, thro’ the kail,

      Their stocks[32] maun a’ be sought ance;

      They steek their een, an’ graip an’ wale,

      For muckle anes an’ straught anes.

      Poor hav’rel Will fell aff the drift,

      An’ wander’d through the bow-kail,

      An’ pou’t, for want o’ better shift,

      A runt was like a sow-tail,

      Sae bow’t that night.

      Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,

      They roar an’ cry a’ throu’ther;

      The vera wee-things, todlin’, rin

      Wi’ stocks out-owre their shouther;

      An’ gif the custoc’s sweet or sour,

      Wi’ joctelegs they taste them;

      Syne coziely, aboon the door,

      Wi’ cannie care, they’ve placed them

      To lie that night.

      The lasses staw frae mang them a’

      To pou their stalks o’ corn;[33]

      But Rab slips out, an’ jinks about,

      Behint the muckle thorn:

      He grippet Nelly hard an’ fast;

      Loud skirl’d a’ the lasses;

      But her tap-pickle maist was lost,

      When kiuttlin’ in the fause-house[34]

      Wi’ him that night.

      The auld guidwife’s weel hoordet nits[35]

      Are round an’ round divided;

      An’ monie lads’ an’ lasses’ fates

      Are there that night decided:

      Some kindle, couthie, side by side,

      An’ burn thegither trimly;

      Some start awa’ wi’ saucy pride,

      And jump out-owre the chimlie

      Fu’ high that night.

      Jean slips in twa wi’ tentie e’e;

      Wha ’twas, she wadna tell;

      But this is Jock, an’ this is me,

      She says in to hersel’:

      He bleez’d owre her, an’ she owre him,

      As they wad never mair part;

      ’Till, fuff! he started up the lum,

      An’ Jean had e’en a sair heart

      To see’t that night.

      Poor Willie, wi’ his bow-kail runt,

      Was brunt wi’ primsie Mallie;

      An’ Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,

      To be compar’d to Willie;

      Mall’s nit lap out wi’ pridefu’ fling,

      An’ her ain fit it brunt it;

      While Willie lap, and swoor, by jing,

      ’Twas just the way he wanted

      To be that night.

      Nell had the fause-house in her min’,

      She pits hersel an’ Rob in;

      In loving bleeze they sweetly join,

      ’Till white in ase they’re sobbin’;

      Nell’s heart, was dancin’ at the view,

      She whisper’d Rob to leuk for’t:

      Rob, stowlins, prie’d her bonie mou’,

      Fu’ cozie in the neuk for’t,

      Unseen that night.

      But Merran sat behint their backs,

      Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;

      She lea’es them gashin’ at their cracks,

      And slips out by hersel’:

      She through the yard the nearest taks,

      An’ to the kiln she goes then,

      An’ darklins graipit for the bauks,

      And in the blue-clue[36] throws then,

      Right fear’t that night.

      An’ ay she win’t, an’ ay she swat,

      I wat she made nae jaukin’;

      ’Till something held within the pat,

      Guid L—d! but she was quaukin’!

      But whether ’twas the Deil himsel’,

      Or whether ’twas a bauk-en’,

      Or whether it was Andrew Bell,

      She did na wait on talkin’

      To spier that night.

      Wee Jenny to her graunie says,

      “Will ye go wi’ me, graunie?

      I’ll eat the apple[37] at the glass,

      I gat frae uncle Johnnie:”

      She fuff’t her pipe wi’ sic a lunt,

      In wrath she was sae vap’rin’,

      She notic’t na, an aizle brunt

      Her braw new worset apron

      Out thro’ that night.

      “Ye little skelpie-limmer’s face!

      I daur you try sic sportin’,

      As seek the foul Thief onie place,

      For him to spae your fortune:

      Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!

      Great cause ye hae to fear it;

      For monie a ane has gotten a fright,

      An’ liv’d an’ died deleeret

      On sic a night.

      “Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,

      I mind’t as weel’s yestreen,

      I was a gilpey then, СКАЧАТЬ