Freedom and whisky gang thegither!

Tak aff your dram! *

go together

To the early part of 1786 may be referred a poem in which Burns once more exhibits his tenderness for the lower animals. He here assumes a fictitious character--that of an old farmer:

THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE, MAGGIE,

"

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL
IN THE NEW-YEAR.

A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie !
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie :
Tho' thou's howe-backit now, an' knaggie,
I've seen the day

Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie,
Out-owre the lay.

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy,
An' thy auld hide as white 's a daisie,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek an' glaizie,

A bonie gray :

handful-stomach

hollow-backed -bony

colt

lea

drooping

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee, dared-excite

Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve an' swank;
An' set weel down a shapely shank,
As e'er tread yird;

An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,

Sin' thou was my guidfather's meere ;

Altered, probably by Mr Fraser Tytler, in 1794, to:

Till when ye speak, ye aiblins blether,

Yet deil mak matter!
Freedom and whisky gang thegither,
Tak aff your whitter.'

The alteration has been universally disregarded.

strong-firm-stately

earth

ditch

mare

perhaps talk nonsense

a hearty draught of liquor

BLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOI TILDEN #CUNDATION

When thou an' I were young an' skiegh,

An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh,

How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegh,
An' tak the road!

Town's bodies ran, an' stood abiegh,

An' ca't thee mad.

When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,

We took the road ay like a swallow :
At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,
For pith an' speed;

* A Scottish coin of the value of 13s. 4d.
That allows itself peaceably to be handled.
A race at a marriage is styled a broose.

runner

wind reel

high-mettled

tedious whinny

out of the way

called

made comfortable

by drink

But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,
Whare'er thou gaed.

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle drooping at the crupper
Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;

But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle,
An' gar't them whaizle:

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O' saugh or hazle.

Thou was a noble 'fittie-lan','*
As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun,
On guid March-weather,

Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han',
For days thegither.

perhaps beat

short race

six

made-wheeze

switch

willow

eight hours' work

six roods

fretted-raged

Thou never braing't, an' fetch't, an' flisket
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisket,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith an' power;

;

--kicked

lashed

breast

Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' risket,
An' slypet owre. †

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,

An' threaten'd labour back to keep,

I gied thy cog a wee bit heap

Aboon the timmer:

I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep
For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestet;

The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it;
Thou never lap, an' stenned, an' breastet,

Then stood to blaw;

*The near horse of the hindmost pair in the plough.

long

before summer

stood still

steepest hill

leaped-reared

'Till hillocks, where the earth was full of tough-rooted plants, would have given forth

a cracking sound, and the clods fallen gently over.'

Filled thy measure of corn to overflowing.