THE CHILDREN'S HOME.
Mary. The Banks of Claudy.
THE COOGATE PORTER.
(By William. W. Reekie.)
I am a Coogate porter,
An' I work baith hard and sair;
I hae carried jute at Polepark wark,
An' on Prainie's greasy flair.
I'va winched them up?ay, twenty high!
In places I hae been',
Although my heart was in my mou',
An' swite filled baith my e'en.
I'm trauchled, ay, trauchled?
In fac' I'm fairly dune!
I hae to get a gless at nicht,
Afore I can gae hame.
An' if I should' stagger?ay, stagger,
The fowk at me will glower,
An' a' the youngsters shout at me?
"There goes the drucken stower!"
I can hing a tackle,
Or I can set a winch ;
I can hook a bale o' jute,
Or work the big steel pinch ;
I can carry on the level,
Or up a three bale stick,
An" bind a tier baith back an' front,
To keep the hale lot. ticht.
Chorus - I'm trauchled, &c.
I've worked the creel an' stopper,
An' tied up tow an' flax,
Wrocht hard amang manilla,
An' amang the Riga packs;
I've stood upon yon cradle,
That stands doon in the lane,
Wi' rain an' sleet fa'in' on me,
When I should hae been at hame.
Chorus?I'm trauchled, &c,
An' now, when I get auld an' stiff,
An' a' my hair is grey,
I'll aye come doon an' see ye a',
An' this its what I'll say?
Be kind to ane anither, lads,
An' a favour never grudge,
An' ye'll aye find smilin' faces
In the Coogate porters' lodge.
Chorus?I'm trauchled, &c.
THE CHILDREN'S HOME.
They played, in their beautiful garden,
The children of high, degree;
Outside the gate the beggars
Passed on in their misery!
But there was one of the children
Who could not join in their play,
And a little beggar maiden
Watched for him day by day,
Once he had given her a flower,
And oh! how he smiled to see
Her thin white hand through the railing,
Stretched out so eagerly.
She came again to the garden,
She watched the childlren play,
But the little white face had vanished,
The little feet gone away,
She crept away to her comer,
Down by the murky stream,
But the pale face in the garden
Shone through her restless dream.
And that pale faoed child and the beggar
Passed homeward side by Side;
For the ways of men are narrow,
But the gates of heaven are wide!
Mary, Kind, Kind & Gentle is She.
Kind, kind, and gentle is she,
Kind is my Mary;
The tender blossom on the tree,
Cannot compare wi' Mary.
Her brow is fair as winter's snow,
Her checks wi' modest roses blow,
And, dove'-like 'glances sweetly flow,
Frae oot the e'en o' Mary.
Sae kind, &c.
Oh! see yon proud and haughty lass,
Her head'wi' pride and folly toss'd,
Ne'er look on her, 'but let her pass,
Be sure it is not Mary.
Sae kind, &c.
But see ye one o' modest air,
Bedeck'd wi' beauty saft- and rare,
That mak's your heart feel sweetly sair,
O weel ye ken my Mary.
Sae kind', & c.
THE BANKS OF CLAUDY.
It was on a summer morning all in the month
Down by yon flowery garden, where Betsy did
I overheard a damsel in sorrow to complain,
All for her absent lover that ploughs the rag-
I went up to this fair maid and put, her in
I own she did not know me I being in disguise,
Said I my charming creature, my joy and
How far do you travel this dark and dreary
The way kind sir to claudy if you please to show
Pity a maid distracted, "for there I have to go;
I am in search of a faithless young man, and
Johnny is his name,
All on the banks of Claudy I'm told he does
If Johnny was here this night he would keep
me from all harm,
He's in. the field, of battle all in hie uniform,
As he is in the field of battle his foes he will
Like a rolling king of honour, who fought in
the wars of Troy.
It's six weeks and better since your true love
left the shore,
He is crutising the wide ocean, where the foam-
ing billows roar,
He is Cruising the wide ocean for honour and
I was told the Ship was wrecked off the coast
When she heard the dreadful news she fell in
To wringing of her hands and tearing of her
Since he has gone and left me no man on earth
In some lonesome valley I'll wander for his sake.
His heart was filled with joy, no longer could
He flew into her arm, saying Bessy I'm the man,
I'm the faithless young man whom yon thought
And since we've met on Claudy's banks, we'll
never part again.
Published by Lowden McCartney, "The Poet's
Box," 181 Overgate, Dundee.
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Probable date of publication:
1906- shelfmark: RB.m.143(129)
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