Halloween, a Scotch Poem

Halloween.- A Scotch Poem.

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure
Not grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor
Gray's Elegy

Upon that night when Fairie's light
On cassilis Downans dance;
Or owre the lays, with splendid blaze,
On knightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean, the rout is ta'en,
Beneath the moons pale beams;
There up the cove to stray an' rove,
Amang the rocks an' streams
To sport that night.

Amang the bonie winding banks
Where Doon rins, wimplean, clear,
Where Bruce ance ral't the martial ranks,
An shook his Carrick spear:
Some merry, friendly contra folks
Together did convein
To burn their nits, an how their flocks,
An’ haud their Halloween
Fu' blythe that night

The lasses deat, an' cleanly neat,
Mair sweet nor when they're fine;
Their faces blythe for sweetly kythe
Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin'
The lads right sprush [?] wi' wooer babs
[?] knotted on their garten
Some unco blate, an some wi' gabs
Gars lasses hearts gang startan
[?] fast at night

Then first an' foremost, thro' the kail
Their stocks maun a' be sought ance
 

They sleek their een, an' graip an' wale
For muckle ^anes an' straught anes;
But hav'ril Will fell aff the drift,
An' waunerd thro' the Bowkail,
An' pow'd, for want o' better shift.
A runt was like a sow-tail
Sae bow't that night.

Then straught ir crooket, lan' or nane,
They roar an' cry a' throw'ther,
The vera wee things, tottlean, rin
Wi' stocks out owre their showther;
An' gif the custock's sweet or sour
Wi' joctelegs they taste them,
Then cozielie aboon the door,
Wi' cannie care they've plac't them
To lye, that night.

The lasses staw frae 'mong them a'
Tae how their stalks o' corn,
But Rob slips out, an' jinks about
Behint the muckle thorn;
He gripet Nelly hard an' fast,
Loud skirl'd a' the lasses
But her tap pickle maist was lost
When kiuetlean in the fause house
Wi' him that night

The auld Guidwife's weel hoordit nitts
Are round an' roun' dividet,
An' monie lads an' lasses fates
Is there, that night, decidet;
Some kaind[?] couthie side by side,
An' burn the gither trimly;
Some start awa wi' saucy pride;
An; jump out owre the chimlie
Fu' high that night

Jean slops in twa, wi' tentie e'e
Wha 'twas, she wad na [?]

But this is Jock, an' this is me,
She says in till hersel;
He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him,
As they wad never mair part,
Till fizz- he started up the lum
An' Jean had e'en a sair heart,
Tae see't that night.-

Puire Willie, wi' his Bowkail runt,
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie
An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt
To be compar't wi' Willie;
Mall's nitt lap out, wi' pridefu' fling,
An' her ain fitt, it brunt it,
An' Willie lap, an' swore by jing,
'Twas just the way he wantet
To be, that night.

Nell had the fause house in her min'
An' pits hersel an' Rob in,
In Lovin bleeze they sweetly join
Till white an auss they're sobbin;
Nell's heart was dancin at the view
She whisper't Rob tae leuk for it;
Rob, stownlins, prie't her bonie mow,
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
Unseen that night

But Merran sat behint their backs,
He thoughts on Andrew Bell,
She lea'es them gashan at their cracks
An' slips out by hersel;
She thro the yart the nearest taks
An' for the kiln she goes then,
An darklins, grapit for the bauks
And in the blue clue throws then
Right fear't that night

And ay she winn't, and ay she swat.
I wat she made nae jaukin.

Till something held within the pat;
Guid lord, but she was guakan;
But whether 'twas the diel himsel,
Or whether 'twas a baukin',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell
She did na wait on talkin
To spier that night

Wee Jennie till her Granie says,
"Will y goe wi' me Granie,
I'll eat the apple at the glass
I gat frae uncle Johnie, "
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'ran,
She [?]
Her braw new [?] apron
Out thro' that night

"Ye little skelpie-limmer's face
I daur you try sic sportin
As seek the foul thief any place
For him to spae your fortune
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight
[?]
For mony a ane has gotten a fright
An liv't an die't deliret
On sic a night

Ae Harste afore the Sherramuir,
I min't as weel's yestreen,
I was a gilpie then, I'm sure
I was na past fifteen,
[?] An stuff was unco green,
In' ay a [?] gat,
An just on Halloween,
It fell that night