AULD Sweep, your muzzle's grey As the rime at skreigh o' day, Ye're no fit to tak the brae, Neeps, nor ploo— You that wis sae gleg an' bauld, I' the het an' i' the cauld,— Ay, ye're wearin' gey an' auld, Sweep, the noo! Ye'd come, I ken it fine, Limpin' far ahint the line, Sittin' doon at dykes, to whine Sair perplexed; Hirplin' on aye, stiff an' lame, Till the Laird wad pit ye hame, Wi' the cairt that taks the game, May be vexed! Ye're deef an' slaw an' blin', An' ye're by wi' muir and whin, Pickin' up or drivin' in, Braw an' douce; An' ye're a' rheumatic pains, Gin the wet gets to your banes, Sae ye'll need to bide your lanes Ben the hoose! The young dog's fleet an' spang, An' he'll rin the hale day lang, Yet it's sweir am I to gang Wantin' you, For traivel East or West, Aye the auldest freends is best, An' ye're aulder than the rest, Sweep, the noo! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST DE PROFUNDIS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BLACK AND BLUE EYES by THOMAS MOORE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 9 by ALFRED TENNYSON DOOMSDAY: TREASURES IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) |