Page:The Royal Lady's Magazine (Volume 2, 1831).djvu/18
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2
Cuddy Clew.
Cuddy took his kent an' plaid,
On his colley gae a whew,
Took the brae wi aching head,
Heavy heart and sickly hue;
Love had play'd him sic a smirl,
Ae blink frae a pawky girl,
Through his heart gaed wi' a thirl,
That gurt a' his veetals dirl,
Wae's my heart for Cuddy Clew.
On his colley gae a whew,
Took the brae wi aching head,
Heavy heart and sickly hue;
Love had play'd him sic a smirl,
Ae blink frae a pawky girl,
Through his heart gaed wi' a thirl,
That gurt a' his veetals dirl,
Wae's my heart for Cuddy Clew.
Cappy[1] Cuddy's colley true,
Caper'd round an' round uncum'erd;
Trawkin mawkins 'mang the dew,
Snawkin' after tod or soumart;
Sometimes paintin like a setter,
Free o' fear an' free o' fetter,
At a laverock or whenchetter,
Or a mouse for lack o' better,
Cappy was nae gowk nor gloamart.
Caper'd round an' round uncum'erd;
Trawkin mawkins 'mang the dew,
Snawkin' after tod or soumart;
Sometimes paintin like a setter,
Free o' fear an' free o' fetter,
At a laverock or whenchetter,
Or a mouse for lack o' better,
Cappy was nae gowk nor gloamart.
"My brave tike ye little trow,
What your master's doom'd to dree;
Love is a' unkind to you,
An' the pangs that torture me."
Cappy gae a look sae slee,
There was meaning in his e'e,
Language plain, as plain could be;
I could read it—so could ye—
Haslins guess it certainlye.
What your master's doom'd to dree;
Love is a' unkind to you,
An' the pangs that torture me."
Cappy gae a look sae slee,
There was meaning in his e'e,
Language plain, as plain could be;
I could read it—so could ye—
Haslins guess it certainlye.
"Master, mine ye little ken,
What we thole for female messans;
Tikes are ten times waur nor men,
Only they despise confessin's;
But little said will soonest mend,
Keenest love will quickest end;
Still on this ye may depend,
Whate'er maidens may pretend,
Nought delights them mair than pressin's.'
What we thole for female messans;
Tikes are ten times waur nor men,
Only they despise confessin's;
But little said will soonest mend,
Keenest love will quickest end;
Still on this ye may depend,
Whate'er maidens may pretend,
Nought delights them mair than pressin's.'
At that moment, Cappy's tail
Heaved up like a bendit bow,
He smelt a smell alangst the gale,
Or heard a voice ayant the knowe;
An' wha was this but Robin Rhynde?
Gala's young an' blithesome hind,
Wi' his dog of savage mind,
Of the pepper mustard kind,
Blithesome sight to Cuddy Clew.
Heaved up like a bendit bow,
He smelt a smell alangst the gale,
Or heard a voice ayant the knowe;
An' wha was this but Robin Rhynde?
Gala's young an' blithesome hind,
Wi' his dog of savage mind,
Of the pepper mustard kind,
Blithesome sight to Cuddy Clew.
But hardly sae to honest Cappy,
Wha aroused him to his mettle;
Weel he ken'd that terrier snappy,
But a drubbing wad na settle;
Often had he shaked him, flung him,
Taw'd him, towzled him, and wrung him,
But had never fairly dung him;
An' though Robin Rhynde wad rung him,
Wha aroused him to his mettle;
Weel he ken'd that terrier snappy,
But a drubbing wad na settle;
Often had he shaked him, flung him,
Taw'd him, towzled him, and wrung him,
But had never fairly dung him;
An' though Robin Rhynde wad rung him,
- ↑ Cappy.—The familiar appellative for the name Captain.