Soldier Yeddy Poem by Robert Anderson

Peer Yeddy was brought up a fadderless bairn,
His jacket blue duffle, his stockins cworse gairn;
His mudder, sad greaceless! liv'd near Talkin Tarn,
But ne'er did a turn for her Yeddy.

Weel shep'd, and fair feac'd, wid a bonny blue e'e
Honest--hearted, ay merry, still teydey was he;
But nae larnin had gotten, nor kent A B C;--
There's owre monie leyke silly Yeddy.

Suin tir'd o' the cwoal--pit, and drivin a car,
Won by feathers, cockades, and the fuil'ries o' war,
He wad see feyne fwok, and grand pleaces afar--
The bad warl was aw new to lal Yeddy.

How temptin the liquor, and bonny bank nwote!
How temptin the pouder, sash, gun, and reed cwoat!
Then the Frenchmen, die bin them! we'll kill the whole twote!
These, these were his thoughts, honest Yeddy.

Awhile wi' his cronies he'll smuik, laugh, and sing,
Tell of wonders, and brag of his country and king,
And swagger, and larn of new oaths a sad string--
These little avail simple Yeddy.

For suin he may sing to another--guess tune,
His billet a bad yen, his kelter aw duin;
And faint at his post, by the pale winter muin,
Nae comfort awaits luckless Yeddy.

When Time steals his colour, and meks his pow grey,
May he tell merry stories, nor yence rue the day,
When he wander'd, peer lad! frae the fell seyde away;
This, this is my wish for young Yeddy.

Of lads sec as him may we ne'er be in want,
And a brave soldier's pocket of brass ne'er be scant;
Nit the brags o' proud Frenchmen auld England can daunt,
While we've plenty leyke young soldier Yeddy.