| IN mony a foreign pairt I’ve been, | |
| An’ mony an unco ferlie seen, | |
| Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I | |
| Last walkit upon Cocklerye. | |
| Wi’ gleg, observant een, I pass’t | 5 |
| By sea an’ land, through East an’ Wast, | |
| And still in ilka age an’ station | |
| Saw naething but abomination. | |
| In thir uncovenantit lands | |
| The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands | 10 |
| |
| At lack of a’ sectarian füsh’n, | |
| An’ cauld religious destitütion. | |
| He rins, puir man, frae place to place, | |
| Tries a’ their graceless means o’ grace, | |
| Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk— | 15 |
| This yin a stot an’ thon a stirk— | |
| A bletherin’ clan, no warth a preen, | |
| As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen! | |
| |
| At last, across the weary faem, | |
| Frae far, outlandish pairts I came. | 20 |
| On ilka side o’ me I fand | |
| Fresh tokens o’ my native land. | |
| Wi’ whatna joy I hailed them a’— | |
| The hilltaps standin’ raw by raw, | |
| The public house, the Hielan’ birks, | 25 |
| And a’ the bonny U. P. kirks! | |
| But maistly thee, the bluid o’ Scots, | |
| Frae Maidenkirk to John o’ Grots, | |
| The king o’ drinks, as I conceive it, | |
| Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet! | 30 |
| |
| For after years wi’ a pockmantie | |
| Frae Zanzibar to Alicante, | |
| In mony a fash and sair affliction | |
| I gie’t as my sincere conviction— | |
| Of a’ their foreign tricks an’ pliskies, | 35 |
| I maist abominate their whiskies. | |
| Nae doot, themsels, they ken it weel, | |
| An’ wi’ a hash o’ leemon peel, | |
| And ice an’ siccan filth, they ettle | |
| The stawsome kind o’ goo to settle; | 40 |
| Sic wersh apothecary’s broos wi’ | |
| As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo’s wi’. | |
| |
| An’, man, I was a blithe hame-comer | |
| Whan first I syndit out my rummer. | |
| Ye should hae seen me then, wi’ care | 45 |
| The less important pairts prepare; | |
| Syne, weel contentit wi’ it a’, | |
| Pour in the speerits wi’ a jaw! | |
| I didnae drink, I didnae speak,— | |
| I only snowkit up the reek. | 50 |
| I was sae pleased therin to paidle, | |
| I sat an’ plowtered wi’ my ladle. | |
| |
| An’ blithe was I, the morrow’s morn, | |
| To daunder through the stookit corn, | |
| And after a’ my strange mishanters, | 55 |
| Sit doun amang my ain dissenters. | |
| An’, man, it was a joy to me | |
| The pu’pit an’ the pews to see, | |
| The pennies dirlin’ in the plate, | |
| The elders lookin’ on in state; | 60 |
| An’ ’mang the first, as it befell, | |
| Wha should I see, sir, but yoursel’! | |
| |
| I was, and I will no deny it, | |
| At the first gliff a hantle tryit | |
| To see yoursel’ in sic a station— | 65 |
| It seemed a doubtfu’ dispensation. | |
| The feelin’ was a mere digression; | |
| For shüne I understood the session, | |
| An’ mindin’ Aiken an’ M’neil, | |
| I wondered they had düne sae weel. | 70 |
| I saw I had mysel’ to blame; | |
| For had I but remained at hame, | |
| Aiblins—though no ava’ deservin’ ’t— | |
| They micht hae named your humble servant. | |
| |
| The kirk was filled, the door was steeked; | 75 |
| Up to the pu’pit ance I keeked; | |
| I was mair pleased than I can tell— | |
| It was the minister himsel’! | |
| Proud, proud was I to see his face, | |
| After sae lang awa’ frae grace. | 80 |
| Pleased as I was, I’m no denyin’ | |
| Some maitters were not edifyin’; | |
| For first I fand—an’ here was news!— | |
| Mere hymn-books cockin’ in the pews— | |
| A humanised abomination, | 85 |
| Unfit for ony congregation. | |
| Syne, while I still was on the tenter, | |
| I scunnered at the new prezentor; | |
| I thocht him gesterin’ an’ cauld— | |
| A sair declension frae the auld. | 90 |
| Syne, as though a’ the faith was wreckit | |
| The prayer was not what I’d exspeckit. | |
| Himsel’, as it appeared to me, | |
| Was no the man he üsed to be. | |
| But just as I was growin’ vext | 95 |
| He waled a maist judeecious text, | |
| An’, launchin’ into his prelections, | |
| Swoopt, wi’ a skirl, on a’ defections. | |
| |
| O what a gale was on my speerit | |
| To hear the p’ints o’ doctrine clearit | 100 |
| And a’ the horrors o’ damnation | |
| Set furth wi’ faithfü’ ministration! | |
| Nae shauchlin’ testimony here— | |
| We were a’ damned, an’ that was clear. | |
| I owned, wi’ gratitude an’ wonder, | 105 |
| He was a pleisure to sit under. | |
