Of Fish, a pretty Kettle,
A Kettle!
There was a naughty Boy,
And a naughty Boy was he.
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see—
Then he found
That the ground
Was as hard,
That a yard
Was as long,
That a song
Was as merry,
That a cherry
Was as red—
That lead
Was as weighty,
That fourscore
Was as eighty,
That a door
Was as wooden
As in England—
So he stood in his shoes
And he wonder'd,
He wonder'd,
He stood in his shoes
And he wonder'd.
To Thomas Keats
Belantree (for Ballantrae) July 10 [1818.]
Ah! ken ye what I met the day
Out oure the Mountains
A coming down by craggies gray
An mossie fountains—
Ah goud-hair'd Marie yeve I pray
Ane minute's guessing—
For that I met upon the way
Is past expressing.
As I stood where a rocky brig
A torrent crosses
I spied upon a misty rig
A troup o' Horses—
And as they trotted down the glen
I sped to meet them
To see if I might know the Men
To stop and greet them.
First Willie on his sleek mare came
At canting gallop
His long hair rustled like a flame
On board a shallop,
Then came his brother Rab and then
Young Peggy's Mither
And Peggy too—adown the glen
They went togither—
I saw her wrappit in her hood
Frae wind and raining—
Her cheek was flush wi' timid blood
Twixt growth and waning—
She turn'd her dazed eyes full oft
For there her Brithers
Came riding with her Bridegroom soft
And mony ithers.
Young Tam came up and eyed me quick
With reddened cheek—
Braw Tom was daffed like a chick—
He couldna speak—
Ah, Marie, they are all gane hame
Through blustering weather
An' every heart is full on flame
An' light as feather.
Ah! Marie, they are all gone hame
Frae happy wadding,
Whilst I—Ah is it not a shame?
Sad tears am shedding.
The Gadfly
Inclosed in a letter to Tom Keats, July 17, 1818.
All gentle folks who owe a grudge
To any living thing
Open your ears and stay your t(r)udge
Whilst I in dudgeon sing.
The Gadfly he hath stung me sore—
O may he ne'er sting you!
But we have many a horrid bore,—
He may sting black and blue.
Has any here an old gray Mare
With three legs all her store,
O put it to her Buttocks bare
And straight she 'll run on four.
Has any here a Lawyer suit
Of 1743,
Take Lawyer's nose and put it to 't
And you the end will see.
Is there a Man in Parliament
Dum(b)founder'd in his speech,
O let his neighbour make a rent
And put one in his breech.
O Lowther how much better thou
Hadst figur'd t' other day
When to the folks thou mad'st a bow
And hadst no more to say.
If lucky Gadfly had but ta'en
