ELLISLAND, 21st Oct., 1789.WOW, but your letter made me vauntie!
And are ye hale, and weel and cantie?
I kend it still, your wee bit jauntie
Wad bring ye to:
Lord send you aye as weels I want ye!
And then yell do.
The ill-thief blaw the Heron south!
And never drink be near his drouth!
He tauld myself by word o mouth,
Hed tak my letter;
I lippend to the chiel in trouth,
And bade nae better.
But aiblins, honest Master Heron
Had, at the time, some dainty fair one
To ware this theologic care on,
And holy study;
And tired o sauls to waste his lear on,
Een tried the body.
But what dye think, my trusty fere,
Im turned a gaugerPeace be here!
Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear,
Yell now disdain me!
And then my fifty pounds a year
Will little gain me.
Ye glaikit, gleesome, dainty damies,
Wha, by Castalias wimplin streamies,
Lowp, sing, and lave your pretty limbies,
Ye ken, ye ken,
That strang necessity supreme is
Mang sons o men.
I hae a wife and twa wee laddies;
They maun hae brose and brats o duddies;
Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is
I need na vaunt
But Ill sned besoms, thraw saugh woodies,
Before they want.
Lord help me thro this warld o care!
Im weary sick ot late and air!
Not but I hae a richer share
Than mony ithers;
But why should ae man better fare,
And a men brithers?
Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van,
Thou stalk o carl-hemp in man!
And let us mind, faint heart neer wan
A lady fair:
Wha does the utmost that he can,
Will whiles do mair.
But to conclude my silly rhyme
(Im scant o verse and scant o time),
To make a happy fireside clime
To weans and wife,
Thats the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
My compliments to sister Beckie,
And eke the same to honest Lucky;
I wat she is a daintie chuckie,
As eer tread clay;
And gratefully, my gude auld cockie,
Im yours for aye.ROBERT BURNS.
