O' I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I-- Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy; An' naebody for dacency but barely twa or three. --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me. O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I-- Gin death's as shuere to men as killin' is to kye, Why God has filled the yearth sae fu' o' tasty things to pree. --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me. O, I wad like to ken--to the beggar-wife says I-- The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the why, Wi' mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e'e. --_It's gey an' easy speirin'_, says the beggar-wife to me. VII THE BLAST--1875 It's rainin'. Weet's the gairden sod, Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod-- A maist unceevil thing o' God In mid July-- If ye'll just curse the sneckdraw, dod! An' sae wull I! He's a braw place in Heev'n, ye ken, An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men Clamjamfried in the but and ben He ca's the earth-- A wee bit inconvenient den No muckle worth; An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out, Sees what puir mankind are about; An' if He can, I've little doubt, Upsets their plans; He hates a' mankind, brainch and root, An' a' that's man's. An' whiles, whan they tak' heart again, An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain, Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain Upon their honours-- God sends a spate out ower the plain, Or mebbe thun'ers. Lord safe us, life's an unco thing! Simmer and Winter, Yule an' Spring, The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring A feck o' trouble. I wadna try 't to be a king-- No, nor for double. But since we're in it, willy-nilly, We maun be watchfue', wise an' skilly, An' no' mind ony ither billy, Lassie nor God. But drink--that's my best counsel till 'e; Sae tak' the nod. VIII THE COUNTERBLAST--1886 My bonny man, the warld, it's true, Was made for neither me nor you; It's just a place to warstle through, As Job confessed o't; And aye the best that we'll can do Is mak' the best o't. There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say: The simmer brunt, the winter blae, The face of earth a' fyled wi' clay An' dour wi' chuckies, An' life a rough an' land'art play For country buckies. An' food's anither name for clart; An' beasts an' brambles bite an' scart; An' what would WE be like, my heart! If bared o' claethin'? --Aweel, I canna mend your cart: It's that or naethin'. A feck o' folk frae first to last Have through this queer experience passed; Twa-three, I ken, just damn an' blast The hale transaction; But twa-three ithers, east an' wast, Fand satisfaction.