Broadside entitled 'Verses'

Transcription

VERSES

On the Melancholy Death of JOHN WHITE, his WIFE, and
FOUR CHILDREN, who perished in the

Present Snow Storm,

Except one infant, who was found sucking the breast of its
Dead Mother, near Pennycuick, on Wednesday morning last.

The fate of this unfortunate family has excited the greatest consternation in
the neighbourhood in which it happened. It appears that on the night before
they were found, that they were observed on the road going in the direction of
Pennycuick in a most deplorable condition, and had applied at several houses
for relief; in one tnstance, the man said he was a weaver from Paisley, and
had lately been employed in Glasgow. The snow on that night was ten feet
deep, and as two gentleman were out with their dogs on the following morning,
they discovered their lifeless bodies, and the youngest child clinging to the breast
of its mother. The infant was conveyed to a nurse, and is doing well. The
bodies of the suffererers were buried in the Church Yard on Friday.....The fol-
lowing are the Verses :?

ALL you who have a heart to feel,

Your fellow creatures woes,
Attend whilst I with acheing heart

A mournful tale disclose.
How six poor wanderers were forced

Not many nights ago,
To brave the raiging of the frost,

And face the drifting snow.

Christians shield at your door,
And do not frown upon the poor

Thro' Mid-Lothian the wand'rers roam'd

To beg their daily bread,
And heedless were to seek A home,

Or lay their weary head ;
The night came on, their tatter'd clothed

But mock'd their shiv'ring irame,
The wind was high, and keenly froze,

The drifting tempest came.

The father's heart was full of grief,

The children loud did wail;
The mother vainly sought relief,

And sigh'd upon the gale.
Their hearts did fail, with grief & dread,

To feel the freezing blast,
At length,with joy,a neighbouring shade

Appear'd in view at last.

" Here we will rest," the father said,

" No father can we go,
" These children flocking at my side

" Are almost lost in snow;
" Come to my arms, dear children all,

" I'll strive to keep you warm ;
" And come, dear wife, behind me here,

" I'll shield you from the storm."

A lovely infant three months old,

Clung to its mother's side,
And though its little limbs were cold,

It drew the milky tide.
Hungry and faint they could not rest,

They rose to heaven a prayer,
That " He who feeds the ravens nest,

Would ease them of their care.

Again the storm came beating down,

And chilly was the breeze,
With wet and cold and weary limbs

The blood began to freeze,
Till death, the poor man's dearest friend

The kindest and the best,
Stretched out his kind and friendly arm

And closed their eyes in rest.

Early on the following day,

Some sportsmen took the field,
The dogs discovering where they lay,

The dreadful sight reveal'd.
The youngest had sutviv'd the rest,

Who every effort try'd,
from its dead mother's frozen breast;

To draw the milky tide,

All you that never felt a woe,

But what yourselves create,
For once a tender thought bestow

Upon their wretched fate,
Whose doom'd to suffer pain and grief

And thro' the world to roam,
Who never knew the dear relief,

That springs from home, sweet home;

Price One Penny,

Edinburgh:....Printed for James Docherty.

previous