THE PAISLEY WEAVER
Fingetum, Fungetum – this auld fashioned rhyme,
Was the auld weaver’s sang in the good olden time,
The cantie auld carle, year oot and year in,
Made a clatterin’ noise wi’ the auld pookin’ pin;
Wi’ a breakfast o’ parritch, an egg an’ a roll,
The couthie auld chap wis a merry auld soul,
Wi’ tatties and’ kail each day for a dinner,
The hamely auld man wis a kind-hearted sinner.
The cheerie auld weaver, his treddle he tred,
Morn, noon, and nicht, till time for his bed;
Baith winter and simmer it aye was the same,
He treddled awa’ for the sake o’ his hame.
When Ne’erday cam’ roon, he got a cheese an’ a ham,
An’ an extra bit baccy an’ a guid heilan’ dram,
An’ aye at the Fair, ‘mid the din an’ the clatter,
He got a bit sail awa’ doon the watter.
The sturdy auld chiel, thro’ sunshine or rain,
In spite o’ the shouther that fash’d him wi’ pain,
To keep the wife an’ the bairnies a’ buskit braw,
As blithe as a lark he kept peggin’ awa’.
As prood as a lord at every week-end,
When in his breek-pooch he’d a tanner tae spend;
Tho’ siller was scarce an’ speerits were dear,
He aye on a Saturday could man’ a drap beer.
The cheery auld buddie, on each Sabbath day,
Wi’ lum-hat an’ “surtou’” he sauntered away,
Straucht as a thrash, same’s the toon was his ain,
He aye gaed tae hear the parson explain,
Hoo baith men an’ women, tho’ feeble an’ frail,
Wad ne’er thirst again for a tanker o’ ale –
Hoo every puir sinner, tho’ as black as the de’il,
Wad ne’er cam’ tae want for a nievefu’ o’ meal.
But time had its changes, the auld weaver an’ a’,
His bonnie black pow got as white as the snaw;
A’ the bairnies got mairrit, an’ got hames o’ their ain,
An’ left the auld man and Janet their lane;
But the sturdy auld boy, thro’ thick an’ thro’ thin,
Had aye a bit hope o’ the mansions abune.
Noo the sun has gone doon, it has sunk in the west,
An’ the cheerie auld weaver has gane tae his rest.
