Wi’ tearful een ’twas Jean wha spak,
“Eh, Doctor! -Sic an awfu’ cure
I ne’er saw gi’en to rich or puir,
For when we saw the ugsome beasts
It gart the herts rise in our breists! 
But Tam, wha tak’s your word for law,
Juist swalla’d doon the first pair raw! 
Yet try’s he micht, an’ sair he tried,
He had to hae the last four fried!”
The doctor turn’d him on his heel,
An’ though puir Tam looked rale no-weel,
He couldna trust himsel’ to speak,
The tears were rinnin’ doon his cheek,
An’ a’ that day was sair forfaughen
Wi’ tryin’ to haud himsel’ frae lauchin’!

VIII. 
Whate’er wi’ Tam ye chance to crack on,
There’s ae thing ye maun ne’er gang back on. 
Freely he’ll talk on politics,
The weather an’ its dirty tricks,
On wages an’ the price o’ coal
Or things conneckit wi’ the soul,
On hoo the meenister’s a leear
An’ medical advice owre dear,
But if the crack warks roond to leeches,
Puir Tam pits doon his pipe an’ retches!

THE HOWDIE.

’Twas in a wee bit but-an’-ben
She bade when first I kent her,
Doon the side roadie by the kirk
Whaur Andra was precentor.

An’ a’ the week he keepit thrang
At’s wark as village thatcher,
Whiles sairly fashed by women folk,
Wi’ “Hurry up an’ catch her!”

Nae books e’er ravel’t Tibbie’s harns,
Nae college lear had reached her,
An’ a’ she kent aboot her job
Her ain experience teached her.

To this cauld warld in fifty year
She’d fosh near auchteen hunner. 
Losh keep’s!  When a’ thing’s said an’ dune,
The cratur’ was a won’er!

A’ gate she’d traivelled day an’ nicht,
A’ kin’ o’ orra weather
Had seen her trampin’ on the road,
Or trailin’ through the heather.

But Time had set her pechin’ sair,
As on his way he birled;
The body startit failin’ fast
An’ gettin’ auld an’ nirled.

An’ syne, to weet the bairnie’s heid
Owre muckle, whiles, they’d gie her;
But noo she’s deid-ay, mony a year-
An’ Andra’s sleepin’ wi’ her.

DAYLICHT HAS MONY EEN.

O! can’le licht’s baith braw and bricht
At e’en when bars are drawn,
But can’le licht’s a dowie sicht
When dwinin’ i’ the dawn. 
Yet dawn can bring nae wearier day
Than I hae dree’d yestre’en,
An’ comin’ day may licht my way-
Daylicht has mony een.

Noo, daylicht’s fairly creepin’ in,
I hear the auld cock craw;
Fu’ aft I’ve banned him for his din,
An’ wauk’nin’ o’ us a’! 
But welcome noo’s his lichtsome cry
Sin’ bed-fast I ha’e been,
It tells anither nicht’s gane by-
Daylicht has mony een.

O! bed-fast men are weary men,
Laid by frae a’ their wark;
Hoo thocht can kill ye ne’er will ken
Till tholin’ ’t in the dark. 
But ere nicht fa’s I’ll maybe see
What yet I hinna seen,
A land whaur mirk can never be-
Daylicht has mony een.