-(:)-
Ance on
a time as maist folk say,
Wha ha'e a tale to tell,
There lived a
dame within the sound
O' Cams'lang auld kirk bell;
She'd been wed
but her spouse had gane
To answer for his deeds,
An' syne as
fashion willed it sae,
She donn’d the widow's weeds.
At saving
siller a' his life
Her guidman had been keen,
An' when he
taen the kirk-yard 'gate
He left her snug an’ bein;
A weer filled
purse is aye a frien',
Weel worthy o' the name,
Wi' that an' a
free hoose beside,
But little ailed the dame.
No muckle owre a twalmonth
O’ her widowhood had gane
'Tae she began tae weary sail'
At leeving a' her lane;
Ilk bird an' beast maun ha'e its mate,
Whilk proves without a
doot,
When lanely
man or woman yearns, .
'Tis nature breaking oot.
Oor dame for wooers didna want,
Her tocher was weel kent;
Some men for smellin' siller oot
Ha'e got an unco scent.
An' mony a sleekit, saft gude-day,
An' smirk the widow got,
Frae chiel's, wha only for her gear,
Wad ne'er o' her ta'en
note.
But what was what she kent fu’ weel,
Nae lawyer better could,
An’ sae tae please hersel’ she had
Three lads waled oot the
crood.
The first, an
honest strappin' chiel’,
A collier to his trade;
The next, a
wabster snod an' clean,
A social, pawky blade.
A stern
guardian o' the peace
The ither ane was ca'd,
But like some chiel's in higher jobs, .
Oor bobby was a fraud;
Wee laddies
nailing neeps or beans,
'Tis true, he aye could fricht,
But when a
slashin' row ta'en place,
He aye slid oot o' sicht.
To ken which
o' the three tae tak'
Did fash the widow sair,
An' ilka day she hankered owre't,
It bothered her the mair;
At length ae day, by chance, of course,
She met wi' a' the; three
At different times, an' gaed each ane
A biddin' tae his tea.
At the
appointed hour fu' brisk,
Her wooers a' were there,
An' much it
pleased the dame to see
Each at his rivals stare;
Tae start an'
carry on the crack
She strove wi' a' her power,
An' had the
trio a' at hame
Before the tea was owre.
The tea noo
past each drew his chair
Close to the ingle cheek,
An' bobby
asked the dame "Gin she
Did faut tobacco reek?"
'Deed
no," quo' she, "oor late guidman
Aye ta'en his wee bit whiff,
An' aft it
soothed his min' when we
Had aiblins some bit tiff."
As soon's she
spak' each frae his pouch
A pipe an' 'bacca pulled,
An' 'twas na
lang till a' the three
Had got their cutties filled;
Then frae his
pouch, wi' pompous air,. _
A box the bobby drew,
Taen oot a
match, struck up a licht,.
An' soon a cloud he blew.
The moudie
clutched the candle up,
Syne clapt it to his pipe,
An' sookin' in
the greasy lowe,
Soon made .his dottle ripe;
The carefu'
weaver canny rowed
A wee bit paper roon,
Lichted his
pipe, blew oot the licht,
Then laid the paper doon.
The dame wha
had been takin' notes.
While keeping up the crack,
Noo rose up
frae her chair an' thus,
To each in turn, spak'-
“Your wastefu'ness wad bring on want,.
Your nesty habits strife,
An' for his
carefu'ness, I think,
I'll be the weaver's wife.."