Dicky Glendinin Poem by Robert Anderson

My fadder was down at the mill,
My mudder was out wid her spinnin,
When, whea sud slip whietly in,
But canny lal Dicky Glendinin;
He poud off his muckle top cwoat,
And drew in a stuil by the hallen,
Then fworc'd me to sit on his knee,
And suin a sad teale began tellin

``O, Jenny! O Jenny!'' says he,
``My leykin for tee I can't smudder;
It meade me as sick as a peet,
To think tou'd teane up wid anudder:
What! there's been a bonny te--dui
About a lang hulk of a miller!
He's weyde--gobb'd and ill--natur'd tui,
But ae word says aw--he hes siller.

``The lasses aye flyre and mak gam,
And ax me, what's got Jenny Forster?
The lads, when we meet i' the lwones,
Cry out, `Sairy Dick! what, tou's lost her!'
When Rowley, the miller, last neet
I met, as we come in frae sheerin,
Had the sickle but been our lang gun,
I'd shot him, ay, dead as a herrin.

``O! hes te forgotten the time,
Tou said tou leyk'd me best of onie?
And hes te forgotten the teyme,
Tou said luive was better than money?
And hes te forgotten the teyme,
I mark'd our twea neames on a shillin?
Tou promised to wear't neist thy heart,
And then to wed me tou was willin.

``The furst teyme you're cried i' the kurk,
I'll step my ways up and forbid it;
When cauld i' my coffin, they'll say,
'Twas e'en Jenny Foster that did it!
My ghost, the lang neet, aw in wheyte,
Will shek thee, and gar thee aw shiver--
O the tears how they hop owre my cheeks,
To think I sud lwose thee for ever!''

``O, Dicky! O, Dicky!'' says I,
``I nowther heed house, lan, or siller;
Tou's twenty teymes dearer to me,
Than onie lang hulk of a miller!''
A match we struck up in a crack,
And Dicky's got sticks and got beddin;
My fadder and mudder are fain--
Then hey for a guid merry weddin!