CHRISTs KIRK on the GREEN;
In Two CANTOs.
CANTO the First, by King JAMES the Fifth.
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WAS neer in Scotland heard nor seen
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Such Dancing and Deray?
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Neither at Faulkland on the Green,
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Nor Peebles at the Play,
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As was of Wooers as I ween
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At Christs Kirk on a Day;
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For there came Katie washen clean
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With her new Gown of Gray,
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Full Gay that Day.
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To Dance these Damosels them Dight,
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These Lasses light of Laits,
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Their Gloves were of the Raffal right,
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Their Shoes were of the Straits;
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Their Kirtles were of Lincoln light,
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Well prest with many Plaits;
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They were so nice when Men they neighd
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They squelld like any Gaits.
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Full loud that Day.
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Of all these Maidens mild as Mead,
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Was none so gimp as Gillie,
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As any Rose her Rude was red,
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Her Lire was like the Lillie,
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But Yellow, Yellow, was her Head,
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And she of Love so silly,
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Tho all her Kind had sworn her Dead,
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She would have none but Willie
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Alone that Day.
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She scornd Jack, and scrippd at him,
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And murgeond him with Mucks;
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He would have lovd her, she would not let him
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For all his yellow Locks,
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He cherishd her, she bade go chat him,
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She counted him not two Clocks:
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So shamefully his short Jack set him,
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His Legs were like two Rocks,
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Or Rungs that Day.
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Tom Lutter was their Minstrel meet,
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Good Lord, how he could Lance;
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He playd so Shrill, and Sang so Sweet
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While Tousie took a Trance:
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Old Lightfoot there he could forleet,
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And counterfitted France,
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He held him like a Man discreet,
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And up the Morice Dance,
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He took that Day.
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Then Stephen came stepping in with stends
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No Ring might him arrest;
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Splayfoot did bob with many bends,
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For Masie he made Request,
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He lap while he lay on his lends,
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And rising was so prest,
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While he did boast at both the Ends
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For Honour of the Feast,
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And Dancd that Day.
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Then Robin Roy began to revel,
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And Tousie to him drugged:
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Let be, quoth Jack, and calld him Jevel,
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And by the Tail him rugged,
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Then Kensie clicked to a Kevel,
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God wots as they two lugged:
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They parted there upon a Nevel,
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Men say, that Hair was rugged
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Between them Twa.
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With that a Friend of his crayd fy,
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And forth an Arrow drew,
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He forged it so fiercefully,
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The Bow in flinders flew,
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Such was the Grace of God, trow I,
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For had the Tree been true;
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Men said, who knew his Archery,
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That he had slain anew,
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Belyve that Day.
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A yap young Man that stood him neist,
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Soon bent his Bow in ire,
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And etled the Bairn in at the Breast,
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The Bolt flew ovr the Bire:
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And cryd fy, he hath Slain a Priest
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A Mile beyond the Mire:
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Both Bow and Bagg from him he kiest,
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And fled as fast as Fire
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From Flint that Day.
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An hasty Kins-man calld Hary,
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That was an Archer keen,
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Tyed up a Tackle withoutten tarry,
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I trow the Man was teen:
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I wot not whether his Hand did vary,
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Or his Foe was his Friend:
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But he escapd by the Mights of Mary
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As one that nothing meand
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But good that Day.
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Then Lawrie like a Lion lap,
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And soon a Flain could fedder:
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He height to pierce him at the Pape,
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Thereon to wed a Wedder:
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He hit him on the Wamb a wap,
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It bufft like any Bladder.
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He escaped so, such was his hap;
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His Doulbet was of Leather
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Full fine that Day.
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The Buff so boisterously abaist him,
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That he to the Earth dusht down,
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The other Man for Dead there left him,
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And fled out of the Town.
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The Wives came forth, and up they rest him
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And found Life in the Lown;
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Then with three routs they raised him
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And curd him out of sown,
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Fra Hand that Day.
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The Miller was of manly make,
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To meet him it was no Mowes:
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There durst not Ten some there him take
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So cowed be their Powes,
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The Bushment whole about him brake
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And bickerd him with Bows,
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Then traiterously behind his Back,
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They hackd him on the Howes
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Behind that Day.
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Then Hutchon with a Hazel Rice
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To red gan through them rummil:
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He muddld them down like any Mice
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He was no petty bummil,
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Tho he was Wight, he was not Wise,
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With such jutors to jummil:
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For from his Thumb there flew a slice,
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While he cryd barlasummil,
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Im Slain this Day.
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When that he saw his Blood so red
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To flee might no Man let him:
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He trowd it had been for old feed;
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He thought and bade have at him.
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He made his Feet defend his Head,
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The far fairer it set him,
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While he was past out of their Dread:
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They must be swift that gat him.
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Through Speed that Day
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Two that were Heads men of the Herd,
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They rushd on other like Rams:
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The other Four which were unfeard
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Beat on with Barrow Trams.
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And where their gobs they were ungeard
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They gat upon the Gams,
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While that all Bloody was their Beards,
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As they had worried Lambs,
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Most l[i]ke that Day.
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They girnd and glowred all at anes,
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Each Gossip other grieved:
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Some striked Stings, some gathered Stanes,
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Some fled, and some Relieved.
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The Minstrel used quiet Means,
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That Day he wisely prieved,
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For he came hame with unbruisd Banes,
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Where Fighters were mischievd,
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Full ill that Day.
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With Forks and Flails they lent them slaps
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And flew together with Frigs;
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With Bougers of Barns they piercd blew Caps
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And of their Bairns made Brigs:
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The Rare rose rudely with their Raps,
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Then Rungs were laid on Rigs:
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The Wives came forth with Cries and Claps,
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See where my Liking Ligs,
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Full low this Day.
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The black Souter of Braith was bowden,
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His Wife hang at his Waist:
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His Body was in Black all browden,
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He girned like a Ghaist.
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Her glittering Hair was so gowden,
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Her Love fast from him Laist,
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That for his Sake she was unyawden,
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While he a Mile was chaist,
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And mair that Day.
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When they had beird like baited Bulls,
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The Bone-fires burnt like Bails,
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And then they grew as meek as Mules
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That wearied are with Mails;
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For those forfoughten tyred Fools,
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Fell down like slaughterd Frails,
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Fresh Men came in and haild the Dools,
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And dang them down in Dails,
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Bedeen that Day.
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The Wives then gave a hideous yell,
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When all these Yonkiers yoked,
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As fierce as Flags of Fire flaughts fell,
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Frieks to the Field they fl[o]cked,
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The Carles with Clubs did others quell
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On Breast while Blood out boaked,
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So rudely rang the Common bell,
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That all the Steeple rocked
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For Dread that Day.
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By this Tom Tailor was in his Gear,
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When he heard the Common bell,
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He said, he should make all a Stear
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When he came there himself,
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He went to fight with such a Fear,
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While to the Ground he fell,
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A Wife that hat him on the Ear,
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With a great knocking-Mell,
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Felld him that Day.
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The Bridegroom brought a Pint of Ale,
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And bade the Piper Drink it,
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Drink it quoth he, and it so Stale,
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Ashrew me if I think it.
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The Bride her Maidens stood near by,
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And said, it was not Blinked,
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And Bartagesie the Bride so gay,
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Upon him fast she winked
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Full soon that Day.
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When all was done Dick with an Ax
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Came forth to fell a Fother,
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Quoth he, where are you whoreson smaiks
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Right now that hurt my Brother?
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His Wife bade him go hame Gib Glaiks,
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And so did Meg his Mother;
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He turnd and gave them both their Parks
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For he durst ding no other,
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But them that Day.
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The END of the First CANTO.
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Canto II. by Allan Ramsey.
Consider it werly, Read oftner than anys,
Wiel at an Blenk sle Poetry not Tane is. G. DOUGLAS.
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BUT there had bin mair Blood and Skaith
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Sair Harship and great Spulzie,
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And mony a ane had gotten his Death
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By this unfonsie Tooly:
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But that the bald Good-wife of Braith
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Armd wi a great Kale Gully,
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Came Belsy slaught and loot an Aith
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Shed gar them a be hooly,
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Fou fast that Day.
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Blyth to win aff sae wl hale Bones,
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Tho mony had clowrd Pows,
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And dragld sae mang Muck and Stanes
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They lookd like wirry Kows:
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Quoth some who malst had tint their Aynds,
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Lets see how a Bowls rows,
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And quat this Brouillement at anes,
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You Gul[l]y is nae Mows.
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Forsooth this Day.
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Quoth Hutchon, I am well content,
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I think we may do war,
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Till this Time Toumond Ise indent
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Our Claiths of Dirt will sar:
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Wi Nevels Im a maist fawn faint,
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My Chafts are dung a char:
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Then took his Bonnet, to the Bent
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And dadded aff the Glar,
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Fou clean that Day.
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Tam Taylor wha in Time of Battle
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Lay as gin some had felld him,
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Gat up now wi an unky Rattle,
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As nane there durst a quelld him;
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Bald Bess flew till him wi a Brattle,
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And spite ofs Teeth she held him
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Closs by the Craig, and with her fatal
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Knife Shoard She would Geld him,
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For Peace that Day.
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Syne e wi ae Consent shook Hands,
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As they stood in a Ring;
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Some redd their Hair, some set their Bands,
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Some did their Sark Tails wring;
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Then for a Happ upo the Sands
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They did their Minstrel bring,
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Whare clever Houghs like Will[s-]wands
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At ilky blythsome Spring,
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Lap high that Day.
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Claud Peky was na very blate,
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He stood na lang a beigh;
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For be the Wame he gripped Kate,
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And gard her gee a Skreigh;
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Had aft, quoth she, ye filthy Slate,
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Ye stink o Leeks, O figh,
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Let gae my Hands, I say, he quait,
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And wow gin she was Skreigh,
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And mim that Day.
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Now settld Goslies sat, and keen
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Did for fresh Bickere birle,
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While the young Swankies on the Green
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Took round a merry Tirle:
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Meg Wallet wi her pinky Een
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Gart Lawries Heart-strings dirle,
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And Folk wad threep that she did green
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For that wad gar her Skirle,
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And Skreigh some Day.
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The manly Miller haff and haff
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Came out to shaw good Will,
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Flang by his Mittens and his Staff,
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Cryd, Gee me Patties Mill:
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He lap Bawk high, and cryd, had aff,
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They rusd him that had Skill;
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He wad dot better quoth a Caf,
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Had he another Gill,
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Of Usquebae.
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Furth started niest a pensy Blade,
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And out a Maiden took,
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They sayd that he was Faulkland bred,
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And danced by the Book,
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A souple Taylor to his Trade,
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And when their Hands he shook,
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Gae them what he gat fra his Dad,
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Videlicet, the Youke,
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To Claw that Day.
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Whan a cryd out he did sae well,
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He Meg and Bess did call up:
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The Lasses babbd about the Reel,
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Gard a their Hurdles wallop,
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And swat like Pownies whan they speel,
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Up Braes, or when they gallop,
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But a thrawn Knublock took his Heel,
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And Wives had him to hawl up,
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Haff felld that Day.
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But mony a pauky Look and Tale
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Gaed round whan Glouming housd them
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The Osler Wife brought ben good Ale,
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And bade the Lasses rouze them;
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Up wi them Lads, and Ise be Bail
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Theyl loo ye and ye touze them:
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Quoth Gaussie, this will never fail,
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Wi them that this gate woos them
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On sic a Day.
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Syn Stoles and Furms were drawn aside,
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And up raise Willie Dadle,
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A short Hought Man, but fow o Pride,
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He said the Fidler Playd ill.
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Lets hae the Pipes, quoth he, beside,
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Quoth a, that is nae said ill:
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He fitted the Floor, syne wi the Bride,
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To Cuttyspoon and Treeladle,
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Thick, thick that Day.
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In the mean Time in came the Laird,
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And by some Right did claim
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To Kiss and Dance wi Masie Aird,
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A dink and dortie Dame.
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But O poor Mause was aff her guard,
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For Back gate frae her Wame,
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Bekkin, she lot a fearson Raird,
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That gart her think great Shame,
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And blush that Day.
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Auld Steen led out Maggie Forsyth,
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He was her ain Good Brither;
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And ilky ane was unky blyth
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To see ald Folk fae clever.
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Quo Jock, wi laughing like to rive,
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What think ye o my Mither?
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Were my Dad dead, let me neer thrive
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But she wad get anither,
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Goodman this Day.
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Tam Lutter had a muckle Dish,
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And betwixt ilky Tune
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He laid his Lugs, int like a Fish,
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And suckt till it was done:
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His Bags were Liquord to his Wish,
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His Face was like a Moon:
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But he coud get nae Place to Pish
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in, but his ain twa Shoon,
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For thrang that Day.
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The Leter-gae of Hally Rhime
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Sat up at the Boord-head,
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And a he said was thought a Crime
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to contradict indeed.
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For in Glark Lear he was right prime,
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And coud baith Write and Read,
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He drank sae firm till neer a styme
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He coud keek on a Bead,
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Or Book that Day.
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When he was Strute twa sturdy Chield
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Be his Oxter and bes Coller,
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Held up frae couping o the Creels
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The liquid Logick Schollar.
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When he came hame his Wife did Reel
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And Rampadge in her Choler,
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With that he brake her Spinning wheel,
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That cost a good Rix Dollar,
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And mair some say.
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Near Bed-time now ilk weary Wight
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Were gaunting for their Rest,
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For some were like to tyne their Sight
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Wi Sleep and Drinking strest.
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But others that were Stomach Tight
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Cryd out, It was nae best
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To leave a Supper that was Dight,
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To Brownies, or a Ghaist
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To Eat that Day.
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On whomelt Tubs lay twa lang Dails,
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On them stood mony a Goan,
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Some filld wi Brachen, some wi Kail,
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And Milk heat frae the Loan,
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Of Daintiths they had Routh and Wale,
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Of which they were right fon;
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But naithing was gae down but Ale
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Wi drunken Donald Don
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The Smith, that Day.
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Twice aught Bannocks in a Heap,
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And twa g[o]od Junts of Beef,
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Wi Hind and Fore-spawl of a Sheep,
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Drew whittles frae ilk Sheath:
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Wi Gravie & their Beads did dreep,
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They Kempit with their Teeth,
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A Kebuck syne that maist coud creep
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Its lane, pat on the Sheaf
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In Stows that Day.
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The Bride was now laid in her Bed,
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Her left Leg Ho was flung;
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And Geordie Gib was fidgen glad,
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Because it hit Jean Gun:
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She was his Jo, and aft had said,
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Fy, Geordie, had your Tongue,
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Yes neer get me to be your Bride,
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But changd her Mind when bung,
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That very Day.
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Tehee! quo Touzie, whan she saw
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The Cathel coming ben,
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It pypin heat gaed round them a,
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The Bride she made a fen,
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To sit in Wyliecoat sae braw,
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Upon her neither End,
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Her Lad like ony Cock did Craw,
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That meets a Clockin Hen,
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And blyth were they.
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The Souter, Miller, Smith, and Dick,
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Lawrie and Hutchon bauld,
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Carles that keep nae very strict
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Be Hours, tho they were auld;
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Nor coud they ere leave aff that Trick,
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But whare good Ale was sald,
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They drank a Night, ene tho auld Nick
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Shoud tempt their Wives to scald
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Them fort next Day.
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Was neer in Scotland heard or seen
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Sic Banquetting and Drinking,
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Sic Revelling and Battles keen,
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Sic Dancing, and sic Jinkin:
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And unko Wark that fell at Ene,
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Whan Lasses were haff Winkin,
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They lost their Feet, and haith their Een,
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And Maidenheads gaed Linkin
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Aff, a that Day.
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