AULD SCOTLAN' gangs yirmin an' chanerin' alane; She wunners whaur a' her trig lassocks ha'e gane; She's trampit the kintra, an' socht thro' the toons, An' fan' the fule hizzies—blawn oot like balloons! Can they be my lassocks—ance cozie an' cosh, Weel shapit, weel happit—sae stumpy an' tosh? Twa coats an' a toush, or a goon, ye may ween, Were boukie aneuch, wi' what nature had gi'en. They're aye i' my e'e, an' they're aye i' my gate— At the kirk I am chirtit maist oot o' my seat; When caul', to the ingle I needna gae ben, If Kate an' her crinoline's on the fire-en'. Whan a lad wi' a lassie foregethers yenoo, It's no her bricht e'en, or her rosie wee mou', Her snod cockernony, waist jimpy an' fine, That first tak's his e'e—it's the big crinoline! To say that he likes it would juist be a lee— But ye ken that the big thing attracts aye the wee— An' the lass that cares nocht 'bout her heart an' her heid, Tak's care that her crinoline's weel spread abreed. An' say, if dame Nature wad gi'e at her birth To ilka wee lassie that's born on the yirth A bouk o' her ain, that grew bigger ilk year, Ye'd no be sae prood o' the giftie I fear. Whan a widow was burnt i' the Indian suttees, To honour the dead, and the fause gods to please, The puir heathen body I'm pincht to accuse, Whan I read o' they crinoline deaths i' the news. Sae aff wi' the whalebone, the cane, an' the steel! I likena the crinoline, trouth an' atweel; It's fule-like an' fashous, it' cheatrie an' boss— I wad juist ha'e yer cleedin' bien, genty, an' doss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FABRIC OF LIFE by KAY RYAN PIED BEAUTY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS CHRIST IN FLANDERS by LUCY WHITMELL |