Page images
PDF
EPUB

The "Holy Willie" of this sarcastic but too daring poem, was one William Fisher, a farmer near Mauchline, and leading Elder of the Reverend Mr. Auld's Session. He was a great pretender to sanctity, austere of speech, and punctilious about outward observances. Yet he was by no means rigid as far as regarded himself: he scrupled not to "get fou," when whiskey flowed at the expense of others he was more particular, too, in the examination of female transgressors than some of his brethren thought was seemly; and when he left Mauchline for an eldership in a neighbouring parish he had a sore fall, for it is said he made free with the money of the poor. Burns prophetically intimates Willie's leaning to the latter vice :

"And sometimes, too, wi' worldly trust

Vile self gets in."

His end was any thing but godly: he drank more than was proper during one of his visits to Mauchline, and was found dead in a ditch on the way to his own house.

Burns loved to give vent to his satiric propensities in prayers such as that uttered by " Holy Willie." On one occasion a friend of his had aided in the summary punishment-sanctioned by old custom-of a girl belonging to an innkeeper, who had been too indulgent to one of the male customers. The law was angry, and the aggressor fled to the woods, but returned to his father's house late on Saturday night, knowing that he was free on the Sabbath. He met Burns on one of these occasions, and related his story: the Poet laughed—mused a little, and said, "Adam, you have much need of some one to pray for you."—" I wish you would do it, Robert," said the other, "I know no one so fit." Burns immediately composed a prayer, of which some stanzas are still remembered; it is explanation sufficient to say that "Geordie" and "Nanse" were the girl's master and mistress, and chief

[blocks in formation]

instigators of the prosecution. He commences by making his friend complain of “ scrimpit stature," and of bodily inability to endure the hornings and houndings of law : he then describes his privations and fears :

"And now I'm derned in glens and hallows,

And hunted, as was William Wallace,
By constables, those blackguard fallows,
And bailies baith:

The Lord preserve us frae the gallows,
That cursed death!"

He next demands vengeance on his persecutors :

"Auld, grim, black-bearded Geordie's sel'

O! shake him owre the mouth o' hell,
And let him hing, and roar and yell,

Wi' hideous din:

An', if he offers to rebel,

Just heave him in.

"When Death comes in, wi' glimmering blink,
And tips auld drunken Nanse the wink,
May Hornie gie her doup a clink

Ahint his yett,

And fill her up wi' brimstone drink,

Red reeking het!"

He ac

John Richmond of Mauchline says, that when he was a clerk in Gavin Hamilton's office, Burns came in one morning and said, "I have just been making a poem, and if you will write it, John, I'll repeat it." cordingly, to Richmond's surprise, repeated Willie's Prayer :" Hamilton came in, read it, laughing with it to Robert Aiken-and Aiken lighted.

[ocr errors]

Holy

and ran

was de

THE INVENTORY;

IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR OF THE TAXES.

SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu' list,
O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith,
To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith.

Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle,
I have four brutes o' gallant mettle,
As ever drew afore a pettle.
My lan' afore's* a gude auld has been,
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been.
My lan' ahin's a weel gaun fillie,
That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,+
An' your auld burro' mony a time,
In days when riding was nae crime-
But ance, whan in my wooing pride,
I like a blockhead boost to ride,
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to,
(L-d pardon a' my sins an' that too!)
I play'd my fillie sic a shavie,
She's a' bedevil'd with the spavie.

The fore-horse on the left-hand in the plough.
+ The hindmost on the left-hand in the plough.
Kilmarnock.

My Fur ahin's a wordy beast,
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd.
The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie,
A d-n'd red wud Kilburnie blastie !
Forbye a Cowt o' Cowt's the wale,
As ever ran afore a tail.

If he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least-
Wheel carriages I ha'e but few,
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new;
Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken;
I made a poker o' the spin'le,
'An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le.

For men, I've three mischievous boys,
Run de'ils for rantin' an' for noise;
A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other.
Wee Davock hauds the nowt in fother.
I rule them as I ought, discreetly,
An' aften labour them completely;
An' ay on Sundays duly, nightly,

I on the questions targe them tightly;
Till, faith, wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg,
Tho' scarcely langer than your leg,
He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling,
As fast as ony in the dwalling.

*The hindmost horse on the right-hand in the plough.

I've nane in female servan' station,
(L-d keep me ay frae a' temptation!)
I ha'e nae wife-and that my bliss is,
An' ye
have laid na tax on misses;

An' then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me,
I ken the devils dare nae touch me.
Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented,
Heav'n sent me ane mae than I wanted.
My sonsie smirking dear-bought Bess,
She stares the daddy in her face,
Enough of ought ye like but grace;
But her, my bonnie sweet wee lady,
I've paid enough for her already,
An' gin ye tax her or her mither,
B' the L-d! ye'se get them a' thegither.

And now, remember, Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of licence out I'm takin';
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
My travel a' on foot I'll shank it,
I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit.
Sae dinna put me in your buke,
Nor for my ten white shillings luke.

This list wi' my ain hand I've wrote it,
The day and date as under noted;
Then know all ye whom it concerns,
Subscripsi huic

ROBERT BURNS.

« PreviousContinue »