Watty Poem by Robert Anderson

If you ax where I come frae, I say the fell seyde,
Where fadder and mudder, and honest fwok beyde;
And my sweetheart, O bliss her! she thought nin leyke me,
For when we shuik hans the tears gush'd frae her ee:
Says I, `I mun e'en get a spot if I can,
But, whativer beteyde me, I'll think o' thee, Nan!'

Nan was a parfet beauty, wi' twee cheeks leyke codlin blossoms: the varra seet on her meade my mouth aw watter. `Fares--te--weel, Watty!' says she; `tou's a wag amang t' lasses, and I'll see thee nae mair!'-- `Nay, dunnet gowl, Nan! says I,
`For, mappen, er lang, I's be maister mysel;'
Sae we buss'd, and I tuik a last luik at the fell.

On I whussel'd and wonder'd--my bundle I flung
Owre my shou'der, when Cwoley he efter me sprung,
And howl'd, silly fellow! and fawn'd at my fit,
As if to say, Watty, we munnet part yet!
At Carel I stuid wi' a strae i' my mouth,
And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promisin youth.

The weyves com roun me in clusters: `What weage dus te ax, canny lad?' says yen. `Wey, three pun and a crown; wunnet beate a hair o' my beard.'-- `What can te dui?' says anudder. `Dui! wey I can pleugh, sow, mow, sheer, thresh, deyke, milk, kurn, muck a byre, sing a psolm, men car--gear, dance a whornpeype, nick a naig's tail, hunt a brock, or feght iver a yen o' my weight in aw Croglin parish.'
Auld Margery Jackson suin caw't me her man;
But that day, I may say't, aw my sorrows began.

Furst, Cwoley, peer fellow! they hang'd i' the street,
And skinn'd, God forgi' them! for shun to their feet.
I cry'd, and they caw'd me peer hawf--witted clown,
And banter'd and follow'd me aw up and down:
Neist my deame she e'en starv'd me, that niver liv'd weel;
Her hard words and luiks wou'd ha'e freeten'd the deil:--

She hed a lang beard, for aw t' warl leyke a billy goat, wi' a kil--dried frosty feace: and then the smawest leg o' mutton in aw Carel market sarrad the cat, me, and hur for a week. The bairns meade sec gam on us, and thunder'd at the rapper, as if to waken a corp: when I open'd the duir, they threw stour i' my een, and caw'd me daft Watty;

Sae I pack'd up my duds when my quarter was out,
And, wi' weage i' my pocket, I saunter'd about.

Suin my reet--han breek pocket thy pick'd in a fray,
And wi' fifteen wheyte shillins they slipp'd clean away,
Forby my twee letters frae mudder and Nan,
Where they said Carel lasses wad Watty trapan:
But 'twoud tek a lang day just to tell what I saw,
How I sceap'd frae the gallows, the sowdgers and aw.

Aa, there were some fworgery chaps bad me just sign my neame. `Nay,' says I, `you've gotten a wrang pig by t' lug, for I canna write.' Then a fellow leyke a lobster, aw leac'd and feather'd, ax'd me, `Watty, wull te list? thou's owther be a general or a gomoral.'--`Nay, I wunnet--that's plain: I's content wi' a cwoat o' mudder's spinnin, '
Now, wi' twee groats and tuppence, I'll e'en toddle heame,
But ne'er be a sowdger wheyle Watty's my neame.

How my mudder 'll gowl, and my fadder 'll stare,
When I tell them peer Cwoley they'll niver see mair.
Then they'll bring me a stuil;--as for Nan, she'll be fain,
When I kiss her, God bliss her, agean and agean!
The barn, and the byre, and the auld hollow tree,
Will just seem leyke cronies yen's fidgin to see.

The sheep 'll nit ken Watty's voice now! The peatstack we us'd to lake roun 'll be brunt ere this! As for Nan, she'll be owther married or broken hearted; but sud aw be weel at Croglin, we'll hae feastin, fiddlin, dancin, drinkin, singin, and smuikin, aye, till aw's blue about us:
Amang aw our neybours sec wonders I'll tell,
But niver mair leave my auld friens or the fell.