Thou ance was i’ the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, an’ swank,
An’ set weel down a shapely shank,
As e’er tread yird;
An’ could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like ony bird.
It’s now some nine-an’-twenty year,
Sin’ thou was my guid-father’s meere;
He gied me thee, o’ tocher clear,
An’ fifty mark;
Tho’ it was sma’, ’twas weel-won gear,
An’ thou was stark.
When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trottin’ wi’ your minnie:
Tho’ ye was trickie, slee, an’ funnie,
Ye ne’er was donsie;
But hamely, tawie, quiet, an’ cannie,
An’ unco sonsie.
That day ye pranc’d wi’ muckle pride
When ye bure hame my bonnie bride;
An’ sweet an’ gracefu’ she did ride,
Wi’ maiden air!
Kyle-Stewart I could braggèd wide
For sic a pair.
Tho’ now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
An’ wintle like a saumont-coble,
That day ye was a jinker noble
For heels an’ win’!
An’ ran them till they a’ did wobble
Far, far behin’.
When thou an’ I were young and skeigh,
An’ stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
How thou wad prance, an’ snore, an’ skreigh
An’ tak the road!
Town’s-bodies ran, and stood abeigh,
An’ ca’t thee mad.
When thou was corn’t, an’ I was mellow,
We took the road aye like a swallow:
At brooses thou had ne’er a fellow
For pith an’ speed;
But ev’ry tail thou pay’t them hollow,
Where’er thou gaed.
The sma’, droop-rumpled, hunter cattle,
Might aiblins waur’d thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch miles, thou tried their mettle,
An’ gart them whaizle:
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O’ saugh or hazel.
Thou was a noble fittie-lan’,
As e’er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an’ I, in aucht hours’ gaun,
On guid March-weather,
Hae turn’d sax rood beside our han’,
For days thegither.
Thou never braindg’t, an’ fetch’t, an’ fliskit,
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An’ spread abreed thy weel-fill’d brisket,
Wi’ pith an’ pow’r,
Till spritty knowes wad rair’t and riskit,
An’ slypet owre.
When frosts lay lang, an’ snaws were deep,
An’ threaten’d labour back to keep,
I gied thy cog a wee bit heap
Aboon the timmer;
I kenn’d my Maggie wad na sleep
For that, or simmer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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