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Kay's Originals Vol. 2

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 139 many years ; and at his death, his son was installed in the office. Besides being piper he was a shoemaker to trade; and was an honest unassuming man. Although he continued to draw the salary, he had no duty to perform, save that of repairing twice a year to Dalkeith House, dressed in the uniform described ; and he received his clothing on his Grace the Duke of Buccleuch’s birthday. The worthy piper continued to play through the town until about the year 1821 ; but the practice had long been considered by the inhabitants as an annoying and useless remnant of barbarous times ; and the following poetical remonstrance-printed and circulated about that time-is understood to have operated with considerable effect in accelerating its final abolition. ‘‘ 0 L-R ! thou wicked wag, I wish thee, an’ thy dinsome bag, Were t w d feet ’neath a black peat hag, Or pipin’ to the Laird 0’ Lagg,’ I ferlie what intention he Could hae, wha thus cornmission’d thee, Against a’ rule an’ harmonie, Our nerves to shock ; My sang ! it is a sad decree For peacefu’ folk. I frankly own, that for my share, Your visits I could right weel spare ; To rise on winter mornin’s ear, I like to hear the tempest rair- Upon a heartsome simmer’s morn, Whan thousand sweets our fields adorn, An‘ music, frae the brake an’ thorn, Salutes the ear- Wha wadna rise at bugle-horn 0’ chanticleer ! 0 how delightfu’ then to stray, Sweet Esk ! amang thy scenes sae gay ; To mark the glorious god 0‘ day Frae ocean spring, An’ wide ower tow’r an’ mountain grey His radiance fling. But now, whan dull December doure Has spoil’d the sweets 0’ simmer bow’r, An’ made our sangsters a’ to cow’r To be eae wakd at early hour, Wet as the Severn, In Belzie’s Cavern. . Shaws nae great sense ; Snug i’ my spence. In pensive mood- Aye fires my bluid. E’er daylight peeps within my cham’er, Is heard the vile unearthly clammer ; Waukes the gudewife-the young anes yammer Wi’ ceaseless din ; I seize my breeks, an’ outward stammer ; Compell’d to rin. Sair pain’d wi’ toothache, as I’m aft, An’ tir’d wi’ tum’lin’ like ane daft, Should sleep a wee, wi’ poppies saft, My e’elids close, I’m soon brought bac,k, wi’ thy curst craft, To a’ my woes. In sleep, whan I’m sair dung wi’ toil, Aft fancy does my care beguile ; Me to some far aff happy isle Where basks eternal summer’s smile She kindly leads, On flow’ry meads. . I hear lone murm’ring waterfalls- Sweet thrilling, soothing madrigals- Drink fairy nectar that inthrals This mortal life ; Till thy dissonant drone recalls To warldly strife. What freaks are aft play’d while we dream ! I thought that Fortune, in a whim, Made me Lord Mayor-then I like him, Saw routh 0’ gowden guineas gleam, Rich coofs, wha now stand far abeigh, An’ toss the head an’ look fu’ heigh, Whan this they saw, they were na’ skeigh As heretofore ; But shook my hands, an’ bending high, Firm friendship swore. Ye weel may think, An’ heard them clink. 1 Grierson of Lagg, one of the must unpopular of the cavaliers.
Volume 9 Page 186
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