Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/453
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A COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.
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I'm jist the same as I was then,
But shared the fate o' better men;
I've lost the village "Upper Ten
That luckless coat,
It gars my bosom heave an' sten
When thinkin' o't.
But shared the fate o' better men;
I've lost the village "Upper Ten
That luckless coat,
It gars my bosom heave an' sten
When thinkin' o't.
When baskin' 'neath Dame Fortune's rays,
She'll bring you meat, she'll bring you claes,
She'll bring you hollow-hearted praise—
The very best o't;
The wheel gaes roun', and then come faes,
An' a' the rest o't.
She'll bring you meat, she'll bring you claes,
She'll bring you hollow-hearted praise—
The very best o't;
The wheel gaes roun', and then come faes,
An' a' the rest o't.
The Bailie gies a distant boo,
Nae cracks wi' Rich the banker noo;
The Provost gies, with his pooh-pooh,
The cut direct;
But poortith may be noble too,
By self-respect.
Nae cracks wi' Rich the banker noo;
The Provost gies, with his pooh-pooh,
The cut direct;
But poortith may be noble too,
By self-respect.
If ance yer elbows are but clooted,
Or your coat turned, then ne'er dispute it,
Ye'll find yer credit sairly dootit
By ane an' a',
An' maybe on the causey hooted—
That's warst ava.
Or your coat turned, then ne'er dispute it,
Ye'll find yer credit sairly dootit
By ane an' a',
An' maybe on the causey hooted—
That's warst ava.
A Country Schoolmaster.
A Tale.
A country schoolmaster, named Jonas Bell,
Once undertook of little souls,
To furnish up their jobbernowls—
In other words, he taught them how to spell,
And well adapted to the task was Bell,
Whose iron-visage measured half an ell:
With huge proboscis, and eyebrows of soot,
Armed at the jowl just like a boar,
And when he gave an angry roar,
The little school-boys stood like fishes mute.
Once undertook of little souls,
To furnish up their jobbernowls—
In other words, he taught them how to spell,
And well adapted to the task was Bell,
Whose iron-visage measured half an ell:
With huge proboscis, and eyebrows of soot,
Armed at the jowl just like a boar,
And when he gave an angry roar,
The little school-boys stood like fishes mute.
Poor Jonas, though a patient man as Job,
(Yet still, like Job, was sometimes heard to growl,)
Was by a scholar's adamantine nob,
Beyond all patience gravelled to the soul!
(Yet still, like Job, was sometimes heard to growl,)
Was by a scholar's adamantine nob,
Beyond all patience gravelled to the soul!
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