No More Learning

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LXXXI.

PRAYER FOR ADAM ARMOUR.

[The origin of this prayer is curious. In 1785, the maid-servant of an
innkeeper at Mauchline, having been caught in what old ballad-makers
delicately call "the deed of shame," Adam Armour, the brother of the
poet's bonnie Jean, with one or two more of his comrades, executed a
rustic act of justice upon her, by parading her perforce through the
village, placed on a rough, unpruned piece of wood: an unpleasant
ceremony, vulgarly called "Riding the Stang. " This was resented by
Geordie and Nanse, the girl's master and mistress; law was restored
to, and as Adam had to hide till the matter was settled, he durst not
venture home till late on the Saturday nights. In one of these
home-comings he met Burns who laughed when he heard the story, and
said, "You have need of some one to pray for you. " "No one can do that
better than yourself," was the reply, and this humorous intercession
was made on the instant, and, as it is said, "clean off loof. " From
Adam Armour I obtained the verses, and when he wrote them out, he told
the story in which the prayer originated. ]


Lord, pity me, for I am little,
An elf of mischief and of mettle,
That can like ony wabster's shuttle,
Jink there or here,
Though scarce as lang's a gude kale-whittle,
I'm unco queer.

Lord pity now our waefu' case,
For Geordie's Jurr we're in disgrace,
Because we stang'd her through the place,
'Mang hundreds laughin',
For which we daurna show our face
Within the clachan.

And now we're dern'd in glens and hallows,
And hunted as was William Wallace,
By constables, those blackguard fellows,
And bailies baith,
O Lord, preserve us frae the gallows!
That cursed death.

Auld, grim, black-bearded Geordie's sel',
O shake him ewre the mouth o' hell,
And let him hing and roar and yell,
Wi' hideous din,
And if he offers to rebel
Just heave him in.

When Death comes in wi' glimmering blink,
And tips auld drunken Nanse the wink'
Gaur Satan gie her a--e a clink
Behint his yett,
And fill her up wi' brimstone drink,
Red reeking het!

There's Jockie and the hav'rel Jenny,
Some devil seize them in a hurry,
And waft them in th' infernal wherry,
Straught through the lake,
And gie their hides a noble curry,
Wi' oil of aik.
As for the lass, lascivious body,
She's had mischief enough already,
Weel stang'd by market, mill, and smiddie,
She's suffer'd sair;
But may she wintle in a widdie,
If she wh--re mair.

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SONGS AND BALLADS.


[Illustration: HANDSOME NELL. ]

I.

HANDSOME NELL.

Tune. --"_I am a man unmarried. "_

["This composition," says Burns in his "Common-place Book," "was the
first of my performances, and done at an early period in life, when my
heart glowed with honest, warm simplicity; unacquainted and
uncorrupted with the ways of a wicked world. The subject of it was a
young girl who really deserved all the praises I have bestowed on
her. "]


I.

O once I lov'd a bonnie lass,
Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that honour warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.

II.

As bonnie lasses I hae seen,
And mony full as braw;
But for a modest gracefu' mien
The like I never saw.

III.

A bonnie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e,
But without some better qualities
She's no a lass for me.

IV.