Read Raw Ltd

 

Promoting Creative Writing in Scotland

 

Robert Tannahill

 

 

                                                                               

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

Poems and Songs

 

Events

 

Tannahill Home

 

 

The Plunkin Weddin

 

 

Plunkin kens a queer auld cock they ca Rab,
Wha has hoardet his hugger in coppers;
Hauf his house is filled up wi his wab,
While the ither hauf leuks like a broker's.
Auld Rab had seen bonnie Ann Auchencloss
Washin claes at the Marshall's Lane dippin,
Sae, he reckonit the profit an loss
If his house tae a wife he shoud lippin.

 

Syne he trystet a blue coat at the Cross,—
It was Symington's best, wi brass buttons ;
Wi Wright's wig, that his grandfaither Rab Ross
Had bequeatht, wi shae buckles an stockin's.
Rab took up the want, dressed, in the mirk,
Creepin near Ann's backdoor in a hover,—
“Leuk,” quoth the faither, “what ails that daft stirk ?”
Quo the mither, “Come in for a bother.”

 

But she guessed by the sheen o his e'e,
An the queer way Rab aye glintet at her;
Sae, “Gudeman, wheesht, lea this wooin wi me,
An I'll fixt in a five minent's clatter,”—
For she weel kent, Rabbie's gear wasna sma.
Puir Ann gloomt; says her mam, “What's the matter?”
“Mither, in this warl I'll ne'er wed ava,
If my choice is confin'd tae that creature.”

 

But Rabbie wheetlit her out in the dark,
Wi his beard he was ne'er owre particular,
Et'lin, if Ann gaed him a squeeze or a smirk,
The jags o his bristles woud tickle her.
They brocht hame braws for the bride, quite a load;
Puir Ann wrocht, an her mither sae wrocht her,
That, before Martinmas morn, Abbey Boog
Had united auld Rab tae her dochter.

 

They sent for yill in abundance frae Mair,
An a dram frae Lochheid's roun the corner,
Widow Rule's winnock gleamit like a fair
Wi pies, puddins, and haggis extraord'nar.
They had drank Rab an Ann's health in ae glass,
Sung, danct, feastet, and fuddlet till mornin ;
Whan Annie's haun (out o sicht) gat a press,
An a whisper—“It's time for adjournin.”

 

Then she reelt out o the door in a jig,
Wi auld Rabbie hip-steppin behint her;
But the daunert bodie's gran'faither's wig
Was pu't aff on the door by a splinter.
Rab reached hame saft an sair out o breath ;
Through a hole at the foot o his steadin,
Crying— “Annie, fix the latch—I fear scaith ;
I've been bothert for days 'bout our beddin.”

 

Annie creept intae her bed like a lamb,
An was saftly asleep in a twinklin;
Tremblin, Rab ahint the door took his stan,
Lest the rascals shoud burst up the fastn'in.
Wi peep o day, Ann flew up like a lark,
Fried twa eggs wi the ham she had skirlin.
“Is a breakfast tae be first o your wark,
Ye young, wasterfu jade ? Rab cried, snarlin.

 

“Hear ye,” says Ann, “I'll tak nane o your snash;”
“Deed,” quoth Rab, “I’ll  hae nane o yours either.”
“Daft coof,—as sure's I'm a maid an a lass,
I'll gae scamperin hame tae my faither.
Ye silly Bouk, I think mair o mysel
Than be deevt the day lang wi your havers,
For your baul heid's aye covered wi kell,
An your birsie beard's dreepin wi slavers.”

 

But noo, the racket frae less gaed tae mair ;
Auld Rab liftet his hauns for correction,
Whan young Ann whamelt him owre on the flair,
An flew hame for her faither's protection.
Noo, the haill toun resoun's wi the clish-clash,
Tauk that's bad baith for Rabbie an Annie ;
Tongue ne'er telit, if, instead o the young lass,
Rab had cocket his wig for her grannie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home

 

About Read Raw

 

Read Raw Press

 

Featured Poet

 

Featured Author

 

The Rolling Poetry Page

 

The Rolling Prose Page

 

Events

 

Launches

 

Competitions

 

Market News

 

Links