Come gather round me blither Scots and listen unto me,
A movement now it is afloat, an honour to Dundee :
It's to erect a monument to ane we a' loe weel,
I mean our ain dear Robin, the honest ploughman chiel.
So agitate ower a' the toun, and e'er January twice returns,
We'll hae a statue o' the bard, our ain dear Bobby Burns.
Yes! raise a statue to your bard and give your son his due,
He weel may claim it at your hands, he gave so much to you ;
Unveil the dream to eager eyes exalt his name on high,
'Tis good for our humanity that such should never die.
What need to say how like a lark he sprang up frae the sod ?
What need to say howdear hath grown the path that he has trod?
Or how encreasing is his might through all these fleeting years,
His songs hath filled the heart with mirth, and brimed the eye
What land so barren but has heard the tidings of his fame ?
What heart so poor but has not felt the magic of his name ?
His deathless strains hath nerved the arm, or smoothed the
brow o' care,
And lit wi' smiles o' rarest joy the darkness o' despair.
Then Dundee raise a joyous shout, for weel ye may be proud
To honour him that lo'ed you weel, and did you much good,
And crown wiith laurels o' your love your peasant king o' song,
Who raised the head o' poverty, and lowed the might o wrong.
That the money will be gathered for that you need not fear,
Already it is coming in frae friends both far and near,
The bonny lassies at the mills they will gea what they can,
And so they might, for Rabby loed the darlings every one.
So let every man in Dundee put his shoulder to the wheel,
And push the movement onward, and he'el the pleasure feel
Of saying to his children each year as it returns,
Here stands the statue o' our bard, immortal Robert Burns.
On Monday night I married a wife,
I thought we'd live happy life;
In bed we had not been an hour, I'm sure,
Till she tumbled me on my head on the floor.
Then O the marriage, the woeful marriage,
It's O the marriage I sadly do rue.
On Tuesday morning she did me desire,
To get out of bed and kindle the fire,
I told her, I, her work would not do,
She blackened my eye with the heel of her shoe.
I boiled the kettle and masked the tea,
And toasted her bread without delay,
I fried the beef-steak for her in haste,
She ate them and would'nt allow me a taste.
She put my dinner upon a tin plate,
Five 'tatoes and the head of a skate;
'Twas after supper she went to the play,
She did'nt return till four the next day.
On Wednesday night as in bed she lay,
Go wash the floor, to me she did say,
Go wash it yourself, you jade, said I,
When she up with the chanty, at me she let fly.
On Thursday morn too long I did sleep,
When out of bed she softly did creep,
She sewed me in the blankets tight,
And then she laid on me with all her might.
On Friday morn she said she was sick,
Thinks I, my lady, I'll play you a trick,
I mixed some jalap in her tea,
Which kept her running about all day.
On Saturday morn she said to me,
Go kindle the fire and make some tea,
And when my head was stooped down,
She up with the poker and cracked my crown.
On that night she got herself full,
Through the room she roared like a bull;
After a while I heard a crack,
She fell down stairs and broke her back.
Then off for a doctor I did go,
Wandering through the frost and snow,
When I came back my lady was dead,
But not one tear for the jade I shed.
On Monday she was laid in the clay,
For me it was a happy day,
Now I am single and so I'll remain,
For marriage I never will try again.
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Probable date published:
1880 shelfmark: L.C.1270(012)
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