O WHA hasna heard o' blythe Bauldy Buchanan?
A hale hearty carle o' some saxty years stan'in';
Gae search the hale kintra, frae Lanark to Lunnon,
Ye'll scarce find the match o' blythe Bauldy Buchanan,
For Bauldy's sae cracky, an' Bauldy's sae canty-
A frame of threescore, wi' a spirit o' twenty-
Wi' his auld farrant tales, an' his jokin', an' funnin',
A rich an' rare treat is blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
Blythe Bauldy Buchanan's a wonderfu' drinker
O' knowledge-for he's a great reader an' thinker—
There's scarcely an author frae Bentham to Bunyan,
But has been run dry by blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
He kens a' the courses an' names o' the planets-
The secret manoeuvres o' courts an' o' senates-
Can tell you what day Babel's tower was begun on ;—
Sae deep read in beuks is blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
He can play on the bag-pipe, the flute, and the fiddle,
Explain ony text, or expound ony riddle;
At deep calculation, at drawin', an' plannin',
There's naebody equal to Bauldy Buchanan.
He kens how the negroes are black and thick-lippit-
How leopards are spotted-how zebras are strippit-
How maidens in Turkey sae muckle are run on ;—
Sae versed in sic matters is Bauldy Buchanan.
How the English like beer, an' the Scotch like their whisky
How Frenchmen are temperate, lively, and friskyHow the Turks are sae grave, an' the Greeks are sae cunnin',
Can a' be explained by blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
The author was often asked, "Who is Bauldy Buchanan?" His reply was, "Really, I cannot tell; he is purely a child of the imagination."
An' mair than a' that, he can trace out the cause
O'rain an' fair weather-o' frosts an' o' thaws-
An' what keeps the earth in its orbit still runnin';—
Sae wonderfu' learned is blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
When round his fireside neebours meet in the gloamin's,
An' hear him describe the auld Greeks an' the Romans—
How they battled an' fought without musket or cannon—
The folks glow'r wi' wonder at Bauldy Buchanan.
Or when he descends frae the grave to the witty,
An' tells some queer story, or sings some droll ditty,
Wi' his poetry, pleasantry, pnzzlin', an' punnin',
Their sides are made sair wi' blythe Bauldy Buchanan.
But o' a' the attractions that Bauldy possesses,
His greatest attractions are twa bonnie lasses;
'Mang a' the fine leddies frae Crail to Clackmannan,
There's nane can match Bella an' Betty Buchanan.
For O, they're sae clever, sae frank, an' sae furthy,
Sae bonnie, sae bloomin', sae wise, an' sae worthy,
They keep the hale lads in the parish a-runnin'
An' strivin' for Bella an' Betty Buchanan.
AIR-" When Adam at first was created."
COME, put on thy finger this ring, love,
And, when thou art far o'er the sea,
Perhaps to thy mind it will bring, love,
Some thought-some remembrance-of me.
Our moments of rapture and bliss, love,
The haunts where so oft we have met,
These tears, and this last parting kiss, love,
It tells thee-O "dinna forget!"
We might look on yonder fair moon, love,
Oft gazed on by us with delight,
And think of each other alone, love,
At one sacred hour every night;
But, ah! ere she'd rise to thy view, love,
To me she long, long would be set;
Then look to this token more true, love,
On thy finger-and "dinna forget!
Thou mayest meet faces more fair, love,
And charms more attractive than mine;
Be moved by a more winning air, love,
Or struck by a figure more fine:
But shouldst thou a brighter eye see, love,
Or ringlets of more glossy jet,
Let this still thy talisman be, love,
Look on it, and "dinna forget!"
And, oh when thou writest to me, love,
The sealing impress with this ring ;
And that a sweet earnest will be, love,
To which, with fond hope, I will cling;
That thou to thy vows wilt be true, love;
That happiness waiteth us yet;
One parting embrace-now adieu, love—
This moment I'll never forget!
GAE find me a match for blythe Jamie M'Nab;
Ay, find me a match for blythe Jamie M'Nab;
The best piece o' stuff cut frae Nature's ain wab,
Is that Prince o' guid fallows-blythe Jamie M'Nab.
In her kindliest mood Madam Nature had been
When first on this warld Jamie open'd his een,
* Connected with the Glasgow Herald newspaper, and well entitled
to the high praise awarded to him by the Poet.
For he ne'er gied a whimper, nor utter'd a sab,
But hame he cam' laughin'-bly the Jamie M'Nab.
In process o' time Jamie grew up apace,
And still play'd the smile on his round honest face,
Except when a tear, like a pure hinny-blab,
Was shed o'er the wretched by Jamie M'Nab.
And Jamie is still just the best o' gude chiels-
Wi' the cheerfu' he laughs, wi' the waefu' he feels;
And the very last shilling that's left in his fab,
He'll share wi' the needfu'-blythe Jamie M'Nab.
Blythe Jamie M'Nab is sae furthy and free,
While he's cracking wi' you, while he's joking wi' me,
That I ne'er wad wish better than twa hour's confab
Owre a horn o' gude yill wi' blythe Jamie M'Nab.
Blythe Jamie M'Nab is nae thin airy ghaist,
For he measures an ell-and-twa-thirds round the waist; Yet a wittier wag never trod on a slab,
Than that kind-hearted billie-blythe Jamie McNab.
Yes, Jamie has bulk, yet it damps not his glee,
But his flashes o' fancy come fervid and free;
As bright frae his brain, as if lively "Queen Mab"
Held nightly communings wi' Jamie M Nab.
He tells sic queer stories, and rum funny jokes,
And mak's sic remarks upon a' public folks,
That Time rattles by like a beau in a cab,
When sitting and list'ning to Jamie M‘Nab.
I carena for Tory-I carena for Whig-
I mindna your Radical raver a fig;
But gie me the man that is staunch as a stab
For the rights o' his CASTE, like blythe Jamie M'Nab.
Amang the saft sex, too, he shows a fine taste,
By admiring what's handsome, and lovely and chaste;
But the lewd tawdry trollop, the tawpie, and drab,
Can never find favour wi' Jamie M'Nab.
Some folks, when they meet you, are wonderfu' fair, And wad hug you as keen as an auld Norway bear; The next time they see you, they're sour as a crabThat's never the gate wi' blythe Jamie M'Nab.
No!-Jamie is ever the same open wight,
Aye easy, aye pleasant, frae morning till night;
While ilk man, frae my Lord down to plain simple Hab,
Gets the same salutation frae Jamie M'Nab.
Had mankind at large but the tithe o' his worth,
We then might expect a pure heaven on earth;
Nae rogues then would fash us wi' grip an' wi' grab,
But a' wad be neebours-like Jamie M'Nab.
Lang, lang hae blythe Jamie and Samuel * the sage.
Together sped on to the ripeness of age;
But "live by the way"-(we must needs pick and dab)
Is the motto of Samuel and Jamie M'Nab.
And on may they speed as they've hitherto done,
And lang rin the course they have hitherto run;
Wi' a pound in their pouch and a watch in their fab,
Sage Samuel the soncy-blythe Jamie M'Nab.
Yes-lang may the SONCY GUDEMAN o' the Herald,
Wi' Jamie M'Nab, wauchle on through this warld;
And when, on life's e'ening, cauld death steeks his gab,
May he mount up on high-wi' blythe Jamie M‘Nab.
* Samuel Hunter, Esq., then Editor of the Glasgow Herald.
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