The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 67

The hert that's greedy maun mischief brew, And the deils pu'd the strings doon yon'er in h.e.l.l; And he sauld, or the agein mune was new, For thirty s.h.i.+llins the Maister himsel!

Gear i' the hert it's a canker fell: Brithers, latna the siller ben!

Troth, gien ye du, I warn ye ye'll sell The verra Maister or ever ye ken!

V.--THE COORSE CRATUR.

The Lord gaed wi' a crood o' men Throu Jericho the bonny; 'Twas ill the Son o' Man to ken Mang sons o' men sae mony:

The wee bit son o' man Zacchay To see the Maister seekit; He speilt a fig-tree, bauld an' shy, An' sae his shortness ekit.

But as he thoucht to see his back, Roun turnt the haill face til 'im, Up luikit straucht, an' til 'im spak-- His hert gaed like to kill 'im.

"Come doun, Zacchay; bestir yersel; This nicht I want a lodgin."

Like a ripe aipple 'maist he fell, Nor needit ony nudgin.

But up amang the unco guid There rase a murmurin won'er: "This is a deemis want o' heed, The man's a special sinner!"

Up spak Zacchay, his hert ableeze: "Half mine, the puir, Lord, hae it; Gien oucht I've taen by ony lees, Fourfauld again I pay it!"

Then Jesus said, "This is a man!

His hoose I'm here to save it; He's are o' Abraham's ain clan, An' siclike has behavit!

I cam the lost to seek an' win."-- Zacchay was are he want.i.t: To ony man that left his sin His grace he never scant.i.t.

_THE DEIL'S FORHOOIT HIS AIN_.

_The Deil's forhooit his ain, his ain!

The Deil's forhooit his ain!

His bairns are greitin in ilka neuk, For the Deil's forhooit his ain._

The Deil he tuik his stick and his hat, And his yallow gluves on he drew: "The coal's sae dear, and the preachin sae flat.

And I canna be aye wi' you!"

_The Deil's, &c._

"But I'll gie ye my blessin afore I gang, Wi' jist ae word o' advice; And gien onything efter that gaes wrang It'll be yer ain wull and ch'ice!

"Noo hark: There's diseases gaein aboot, Whiles are, and whiles a' thegither!

Ane's ca'd Repentance--haith, hand it oot!

It comes wi' a change o' weather.

"For that, see aye 'at ye're gude at the spune And tak yer fair share o' the drink; Gien ye dinna, I wadna won'er but sune Ye micht 'maist begin to think!

"Neist, luik efter yer liver; that's the place Whaur Conscience gars ye fin'!

Some fowk has mair o' 't, and some has less-- It comes o' breedin in.

"But there's waur nor diseases gaein aboot, There's a heap o' fair-spoken lees; And there's naething i' natur, in or oot, 'At waur with the health agrees.

"There's what they ca' Faith, 'at wad aye be fain; And Houp that glowers, and tynes a'; And Love, that never yet faund its ain, But aye turnt its face to the wa'.

"And Trouth--the sough o' a sickly win'; And Richt--what needna be; And Beauty--nae deeper nor the skin; And Blude--that's naething but bree.

"But there's ae gran' doctor for a' and mair-- For diseases and lees in a breath:-- My bairns, I lea' ye wi'oot a care To yer best freen, Doctor Death.

"He'll no distress ye: as quaiet's a cat He grips ye, and a'thing's ower; There's naething mair 'at ye wad be at, There's never a sweet nor sour!

"They ca' 't a sleep, but it's better bliss, For ye wauken up no more; They ca' 't a mansion--and sae it is, And the coffin-lid's the door!

"Jist ae word mair---and it's _verb.u.m sat_-- I hae preacht it mony's the year: Whaur there's naething ava to be frict.i.t at There's naething ava to fear.

"I dinna say 'at there isna a h.e.l.l-- To lee wad be a disgrace!

I bide there whan I'm at hame mysel, And it's no sic a byous ill place!

"Ye see yon blue thing they ca' the lift?

It's but h.e.l.l turnt upside doun, A whummilt bossie, whiles fou o' drift, And whiles o' a rumlin soun!

"Lat auld wives tell their tales i' the reek, Men hae to du wi' fac's: There's naebody there to watch, and keek Intil yer wee mistaks.

"But nor ben there's naebody there Frae the yird to the farthest spark; Ye'll rub the knees o' yer breeks to the bare Afore ye'll pray ye a sark!

"Sae fare ye weel, my bonny men, And weel may ye thrive and the!

Gien I dinna see ye some time again It'll be 'at ye're no to see."

He c.o.c.kit his hat ower ane o' his cheeks, And awa wi' a halt and a spang-- For his tail was doun ae leg o' his breeks, And his butes war a half ower lang.

_The Deil's forhooit his ain, his ain!

The Deil's forhooit his ain!

His bairns are greitin in ilka neuk, For the Deil's forhooit his ain._

_THE AULD FISHER_.

There was an auld fisher, he sat by the wa', An' luikit oot ower the sea; The bairnies war playin, he smil't on them a', But the tear stude in his e'e.

_An' it's--oh to win awa, awa!

An' it's, oh to win awa Whaur the bairns come hame, an' the wives they bide, An' G.o.d is the father o' a'!_

Jocky an' Jeamy an' Tammy oot there A' i' the boatie gaed doon; An' I'm ower auld to fish ony mair, Sae I hinna the chance to droon!

_An' it's--oh to win awa, awa! &c._

An' Jeannie she grat to ease her hert, An' she easit hersel awa; But I'm ower auld for the tears to stert, An' sae the sighs maun blaw.

_An' it's--oh to win awa, awa! &c._