The Canongate Burns (94 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
See Weston's
Robert Burns
.
The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata,
North-ampton, MA: The Gehenna Press (1963) and Studies in Bibliography: Papers of the Biographical Society of the University of Virginia, ed. Fredson Bowers, Vol. XIII, 1960, pp. 239â47.
1
The old Scotch name for the Bat. R.B.
2
The Hostess of a noted Caravansary in M [auchline], well known to and much frequented by the lowest orders of Travellers and Pilgrims. R.B.
1
A reference to Mount Maître Abraham, near Quebec, where Wolfe fought and died victorious in 1759.
2
El Moro, a castle near Santiago/St Jago, Cuba. British troops took Havana in 1762.
3
The siege of Gibraltar, 1782, when Captain Curtis destroyed the Spanish ships, âfloating batt'ries'.
4
George Elliot held Gibraltar after the siege and was made a Lord for his service to Britain.
1
A peculiar sort of whisky so called, a great favourite with Poosie Nansie's clubs. R.B. It was distilled at a brewery of that name in Clackmannanshire.
2
Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad-singer on record. R.B.
To Mr Robt Aiken in Ayr, in answer to his mandate requiring an account of servants, carriages, carriage-horses, riding horses, wives, children, &c.
This appears first with Stewart's collection in 1802.
Sir, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu' list,
O' gudes an' gear an' a' my graith,
commodities, wealth, clothes
To which I'm clear to gie my aith.
give, oath
Â
5
Imprimis,
then, for carriage cattle,
I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle,
have
As ever drew before a pettle.
plough stick
My
Lan'-afore
's
1
a guid auld has been,
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been.
10
My
Lan'-ahin
's
2
a weel-gaun fillie,
well-going horse
That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,
3
often, home from
An' your auld burrough mony a time,
old, (town)
In days when riding was nae crime â
no
But ance whan in my wooing pride
once, when
15
I like a blockhead boost to ride,
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to,
so
(Lord pardon a' my sins an' that too!)
I play'd my fillie sic a shavie,
horse such a trick
She 's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie.
spavin
20
My
Furr ahin
's
4
a wordy beast,
rear furrow, worthy
As e'er in tug or tow was traced. â
The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie,
quick-tempered pony
A damn'd red wud Kilburnie blastie;
stark mad, pest
Foreby, a
Cowt, o' Cowtes
the wale,
colt, pick of
25
As ever ran afore a tail.
If he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least. â
pound
Wheel-carriages I hae but few,
have
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new;
two, almost
30
An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
old, more
Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken; o
ne, both, shafts
I made a poker o' the spin'le,
spindle
An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le. â
old mother, burned, wheel
For men, I've three mischievous boys,
35
Run-
de'ils
for rantin an' for noise;
regular devils, frolic
A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other,
plough driver
Wee Davoc
5
hauds the nowte in fother.
holds, cattle, fodder
I rule them as I ought, discreetly,
An' aften labour them completely.
often
40
An' ay on Sundays duly nightly, Â
I on the Questions
targe
them tightly;
catechisms, question
Till faith, wee Davoc's turn'd sae gleg,
so sharp
Tho' scarcely langer than your leg,
longer
He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling,
6
repeat, off
45
As fast as ony in the dwalling. â
any, dwelling
I've nane in female servan' station,
none
(Lord keep me ay frae a' temptation!)
always from
I hae nae wife; and that my bliss is,
have no
An' ye hae laid nae tax on misses;
have, no
50
An' then if kirk folks dinna clutch me,
do not
I ken the devils darena touch me.
know, dare not
Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented,
children, more, well
Heav'n sent me ane mair than I wanted. one more
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess,
plump, Elizabeth Burns
55
She stares the daddy in her face,
Enough of ought ye like but grace;
But her, my bonny, sweet wee lady,
I've paid enough for her already,
An' gin ye tax her or her mither,
if, mother
60
By the Lord! ye 'se get them a' thegither.
together
Â
And now, remember Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of licence out I'm takin;
no
Frae this time forth, I do declare,
from
I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair;
women more
65
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
mire, wade
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
so
My travel a' on foot I'll shank it,
walk
I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit. â
legs, God, thanked
The Kirk and you may tak' you that,
70
It puts but little in your pat;
pot
Sae dinna put me in your buke,
so do not, book
Nor for my ten white shillings luke.
look
This list, wi' my ain han' I wrote it,
own
Day and date as under notit,
noted
75
Then know all ye whom it concerns,
Subscripsi huic,
I have endorsed this
Robert Burns.
Mossgiel, Feb. 22nd 1786.
This poem is a witty deviant form of Burns's standard satirical practice of reducing the great world of politics to the dimensions of his farmyard so that, for example, Pitt and Fox become midden-contending cock-erels. The political event that intrudes on him here is Pitt's attempt in May 1785 to create a new tax system based on carriages, windows, married status, female servants and numbers of children. This was to pay for the growing debt initiated by the loss of America and a series of loans to foreign powers. This allows for a series of running jokes through the poem mainly based on the disparity between the poet's paucity of worldly goods and Pitt's fiscal intentions. He has no carriage horses but plough horses about which we are, characteristically, intimately informed as to their nature and function. The energy of the horse both for itself and as a metaphor for raw, randy male sexual energy also runs though the poem. First recorded in medieval texts, âriding' has had extensive, ambivalent usage. See ll. 13â19 and ll. 63â4. Sexually, too, we are treated to the temptations for him of female servants (ll. 46â7) and, of course, his illegitimate daughter who is the beloved outcome of just such a previous encounter (ll. 52â60). Burns's near patriarchal appetite for surrounding himself with progeny derived in and out of wedlock also extends to wee Davoc the orphan son of a ploughman adopted by the family who, according to tradition, Burns carried on his shoulders round Lochlea while teaching him English. What he certainly would not be doing is imposing on Davoc and the older boys (ll. 40â5) the rote religious instruction of
The Shorter Catechism.
As Liam McIlvanney has noted, it was precisely against this kind of doctrinaire environment that their father hired Murdoch to give his sons an alternative, relatively liberal education. The intimate, wry, knowing tone of the poem is influenced, of course, by the addressee who is his true friend Robert Ai [t] ken (ironically governmentally appointed for this task), a powerful, practical supporter of the Kilmarnock edition and Gavin Hamilton's lawyer in their legal savaging of âHoly Willie'.Â
1
The fore-horse on the left hand, in the plough. R.B.
2
The hindmost horse on the lefthand, in the plough. R.B.
3
Kilmarnock. R.B.
4
The hindmost horse on the right hand, in the plough. R.B.
5
Wee Davoc was David Hutcheson, whom Burns took around with him on Lochlea farm and according to tradition carried him on his shoulders and taught him English.
6
This is one of the Shorter Catechisms to answer the question
What is
Effectual Calling?
Â
Dumfries House, Mossgiel, 3rd March, 1786.
First printed in 1834, by Cunningham.
Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse
E'er bring you in by Mauchline Corss,
cross
Lord, man, there's lasses there wad force
would
      A hermit's fancy,
5
And down the gate in faith they're worse
road
      An' mair unchancy.
more dangerous
But as I'm sayin, please step to Dow's
Whitefoord Arms
An' taste sic gear as Johnnie brews,
such liquor
Till some bit callan bring me news
young lad
10
      That ye are there,
An' if we dinna hae a bouze,
do not, booze
      I'se ne'er drink mair.
more
It's no I like to sit an' swallow
Then like a swine to puke an' wallow,
15
But gie me just a true guid fallow
give, good fellow
      Wi' right ingine,
wit/inclination
And spunkie ance to mak us mellow,
whisky once
      An' then we'll shine.
Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk,
one, world's
20
Wha rate the wearer by the cloak
who
An' sklent on poverty their joke
look down on the poor
      Wi' bitter sneer,
Wi' you nae friendship I will troke,
no, exchange
      Nor cheap nor dear.
25
But if as I'm informed weel
well
Ye hate as ill's the vera deil
very Devil
The flinty heart that canna feel â
cannot
      Come Sir, here's tae you:
to
Hae there's my han', I wiss you weel
have, hand, wish, well
30
      An' Gude be wi' you.
good attend you
Â
This occasional poem was sent to John Kennedy on 3rd March, 1786 in response to his request (Letter 22) for a copy of
The Cotter's
Saturday Night.
Johnie Dow (l. 7) was the proprietor of the Whitefoord Arms, Mauchline. Kennedy was related to Gavin Hamilton's wife, Helen Kennedy and factor to the Earl of Dumfries. What the poem represents is clever sounding-out of the socially superior Kennedy as possible friend by a series of suggestions as to the degree of his liberalism on matters of drink, women and social sympathy.
First published in
The Edinburgh Magazine,
January 1808.
GUDE pity me, because I'm little,
God
For though I am an elf o' mettle,
And can, like ony wabster's shuttle,
any weaver's
      Jink there or here;
dodge
5
Yet, scarce as lang's a guid kail whittle,
long as, good cabbage knife
      I'm unco queer.
very oddÂ
An' now Thou kens our woefu' case,
knows
For
Geordie's
Jurr
we're in disgrace,
maid
Because we stang'd her through the place,
rode her on a stake
10
      An' hurt her spleuchan,
purse/vagina
For which we daurna show our face
that reason, dare not
      Within the clachan.
An' now we're dern'd in dens and hollows,
hidden
And hunted as was William Wallace,
15
Wi' Constables, those blackguard fallows,
they, fellows
      An' Sodgers baith;
soldiers, both
But Gude preserve us frae the gallows,
God, from
      That shamefu' death!
Auld, grim, black-bearded Geordie's sell;
old
20
Oh, shake him owre the mouth o' Hell,
over
There let him hing, an' roar, an' yell,
      Wi' hideous din,
And if he offers to rebel,
      Then heave him in.
25
When Death comes in wi' glimmering blink,
glance
An' tips auld drucken Nanz the wink,
old drunken
May Satan gie her arse a clink
give, smack
      Within his yet,
gate
An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink
30
      Red, reeking, het.
smoking, hot
There's Jock an' the hav'rel Jenny,
half-witted
Some Devil seize them in a hurry,
An' waft them in th' infernal wherry
      Straught through the lake,
35
An' gie their hides a noble curry
give
      Wi' oil of aik.
a beating with oak
As for the
Jurr,
puir worthless body,
maid, poor
She's got mischief enough already,
Wi' stanget hips and buttocks bloody,
wounds from the stake
40
      She's suffer'd sair;
sore
But may she wintle in a woodie,
swing from a noose
      If she whore mair.
more
Â
This poem involves an explosive clash between two worlds: the licentious hostelry tribe of
The Jolly Beggars
and its would-be repressors, the lads of âAuld Licht' conviction led by Jean Armour's brother, Adam. Sleeping with Jean, Burns was sleeping with a daughter of the enemy. Here, indeed, hatred for his wife's clan bursts forth in this vicious, strange account of her brother, Adam, and the state of mind he represents. The apparent biographical source of the story is that George Gibson, landlord of
Poosie Nancy's,
had hired a maid (Agnes Wilson) who was really a prostitute. Adam and his gang had responded by âstanging' her; riding her out of town on a rail with all the bloody, bruising consequences to a drawerless woman of a rough wooden pole thrust between her legs. Gibson had sought legal reparation and the lads had made themselves scarce. Armour's identification of his cowardly brutality with Wallace's natural heroism is as crazily ironic as William Fisher's identification with God in that companion-piece prayer of total hypocrisy,
Holy Willie's Prayer.
Armour's rhetoric displays a similar level of hate-filled imaginings of eternal damnation being visited on his enemies. His apparent sympathy in the last stanza for the woman having suffered enough is undermined by the fact that any more whoring should lead to her lynching. Indeed, Auld Lichts' pathologically sadistic rhetoric becomes, in this poem, tangible sadism. Adam Armour was small but the first stanza seems to describe not as a human being but, surreally, a free-floating phallus. He is, indeed, âunco queer'. The half-witted girl (l. 31) is Poosie Nansie's own daughter, known as âRacer Jess'. The word âarse' (l. 27) in often printed as âdoup'.