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The Cornflower, and Other Poems
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"And the wild Highland strain is still i' the bluid —
'Tis i' Colin, as sure's you're leeving;
Ye ken how it is wi' the whole Highland brood —
'Tis a' for spending and geeving.
"Gin ye're freen' o' the clan, why, ask what ye may,
Ye'll get o' the best, ay, get double;
Gin ye're foe o' the clan, weel, juist gang your way
If so be ye're no hunting trouble.
"Brither Colin was daft when a lad at the school,
Wi' ways and wi' morals improper,
Had high flowing notions – poor family fool,
His notions ha' made him a pauper.
"What owns he? Bare acres a few, and a house,
Yet when we, last year, were expecting
Twa relatives, ane puir as ony church mouse,
Ane freighted wi' wealth, unreflecting,
"He spat oot graun' like, 'Sin' ye're ower fond o' pelf
'Ye can hae,' said he, 'the rich pairty,
But I'll tak' the mon that is puir as mysel'
And gie him a welcome right hearty' —
A welcome right hearty.
"Gosh! I had tae lauch at the feckless auld mon
As he stood there, his bonnet-strings twirling;
Ye'd think he was chief o' a whole Highland clan
That marched to the pibroch's mad skirling.
"Ah! hot-headed, high-handed, go as you please,
'Tis i' Colin, as sure's you're leeving;
Ye ken how it is wi' the whole Highland brood —
'Tis a' for spending and geeving.
"Gin ye're freen' o' the clan, why, ask what ye may,
Ye'll get o' the best, ay, get double;
Gin ye're foe o' the clan, weel, juist gang your way
If so be ye're no hunting trouble.
"Brither Colin was daft when a lad at the school,
Wi' ways and wi' morals improper,
Had high flowing notions – poor family fool,
His notions ha' made him a pauper.
"What owns he? Bare acres a few, and a house,
Yet when we, last year, were expecting
Twa relatives, ane puir as ony church mouse,
Ane freighted wi' wealth, unreflecting,
"He spat oot graun' like, 'Sin' ye're ower fond o' pelf
'Ye can hae,' said he, 'the rich pairty,
But I'll tak' the mon that is puir as mysel'
And gie him a welcome right hearty' —
A welcome right hearty.
"Gosh! I had tae lauch at the feckless auld mon
As he stood there, his bonnet-strings twirling;
Ye'd think he was chief o' a whole Highland clan
That marched to the pibroch's mad skirling.
"Ah! hot-headed, high-handed, go as you please,
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