The Canongate Burns. Robert Burns

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СКАЧАТЬ this is SUPERSTITION here,

      40 An’ that’s HYPOCRISY.

      I’m gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair, going

      To spend an hour in daffin: larking/playing

      Gin ye’ll go there, yon runkl’d pair, if, wrinkled

      We will get famous laughin

      45 At them this day.’

      Quoth I, ‘Wi’ a’ my heart, I’ll do’t;

      I’ll get my Sunday’s sark on, shirt

      An’ meet you on the holy spot;

      Faith, we’se hae fine remarkin!’ we’ll have

      50 Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time, went, breakfast/gruel

      An’ soon I made me ready;

      For roads were clad, frae side to side, filled

      Wi’ monie a wearie body, many

      In droves that day.

      55 Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, smart, gear

      Gaed hoddan by their cotters; went jogging, farm workers

      There swankies young, in braw braid-claith, strapping fellows, fine broadcloth

      Are springan owre the gutters. jumping over

      The lasses, skelpan barefit, thrang, hastening barefoot, crowded

      60 In silks an’ scarlets glitter;

      Wi’ sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang, many, large slice

      An’ farls, bak’d wi’ butter, cakes

      Fu’ crump that day. hard or crisp

      When by the plate we set our nose, collection plate

      65 Weel heapè d up wi’ ha’pence,

      A greedy glowr Black-bonnet throws, stare, Church elder

      An’ we maun draw our tippence. must give

      Then in we go to see the show:

      On ev’ry side they’re gath’ran;

      70 Some carryin dails, some chairs an’ stools, bench planks

      An’ some are busy bleth’ran talking gossip

      Right loud that day.

      Here, stands a shed to fend the show’rs, ward off

      An’ screen our countra Gentry; country

      75 There Racer Jess, an’ twa-three whores, two or three

      Are blinkan at the entry.

      Here sits a raw o’ tittlan jads, giggling girls

      Wi’ heavin breasts an’ bare neck;

      An’ there a batch o’ Wabster lads, group of weavers

      80 Blackguardin frae Kilmarnock, mischief making from

      For fun this day.

      Here some are thinkan on their sins,

      An’ some upo’ their claes; clothes

      Ane curses feet that fyl’d his shins, one, soiled, shoes/feet

      85 Anither sighs an’ prays: another

      On this hand sits a Chosen swatch, sample

      Wi’ screw’d-up, grace-proud faces;

      On that, a set o’ chaps, at watch,

      Thrang winkan on the lasses busy

      90 To chairs that day.

      O happy is that man an’ blest!

      Nae wonder that it pride him! no

      Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best, whose own

      Comes clinkan down beside him! sitting quickly

      95 Wi’ arm repos’d on the chair back,

      He sweetly does compose him;

      Which, by degrees, slips round her neck,

      An’s loof upon her bosom, hand

      Unkend that day. unnoticed

      100 Now a’ the congregation o’er

      Is silent expectation;

      For Moodie speels the holy door, reaches

      Wi’ tidings o’ damnation:

      Should Hornie, as in ancient days, the Devil

      105 ’Mang sons o’ God present him;

      The vera sight o’ Moodie’s face, very

      To’s ain het hame had sent him to his own hot home

      Wi’ fright that day.

      Hear how he clears the points o’ Faith

      110 Wi’ rattlin and thumpin!

      Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,

      He’s stampan, an’ he’s jumpan! stomping

      His lengthen’d chin, his turn’d-up snout,

      His eldritch squeel an’ gestures, unearthly squeal

      115 O how they fire the heart devout,

      Like cantharidian plaisters blister-producing plasters

      On sic a day! such

      But hark! the tent has chang’d its voice;

      There’s peace an’ rest nae langer; no longer

      120 For a’ the real judges rise,

      They canna sit for anger: cannot

      Smith opens out his cauld harangues, cold

      On practice and on morals;

      An’ aff the godly pour in thrangs, off, groups

      125 To gie the jars an’ barrels give

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