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https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/882c5fa3f594a4760b4938a890685d38.pdf
35a1f35388156beccdc934baf84f6925
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AULD
RONALD:
A
WELL-KNOWN LOCAL CHARACTER,
AND
OTHER RHYMES.
BY
W I L L I A M
R E I D .
Of a the queer carls that daunder'd the toon,
Though ye wad hae daucker'd ilk street up an' doon,
The queerest of a' ye wad gat roon an' roon,
Wad be an auld bodie ca'd Ronald.
ABERDEEN :
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR.
1 8 7 3.
�AULD
RONALD.
Of a' the queer carls that daunder'd the toon
Though yew ad hae daucker'd ilk street up an' doon,
The queerest of a' ye wad gat roon an' roon,
Wad been an auld bodie ca'd Ronald.
But whaur he cam' frae, or whan he cam hither,
And wha was his father or gin he'd a mither,
A' the folk I heard speak on't aye seem'd in swither,
They nee'r gat a word on't frae Ronald.
In appearance he looked like a senator Greek
In toga or gown when rising to speak,
Archimedian fire frae his flashin' eyes leaped,
For nature's own noble was Ronald.
His head it was o' the largest demensions,
His brain was bang fou o' the drollest inventions;
Inventors far less frae the Queen had got pensions,
But she sair neglecit oor Ronald.
Of a' kinds o' knowledge, of a' kinds o' lear',
Auld Ronald had plenty enouch an' to spare;
Rab Rorrisons wallet beside it were bare,
He wad ta'en aff his bannet to Ronald.
His speech was correct, aye sae terse and weel stated,
Each sentence, each accent, sae weel modulated,
E'en Garrick or Johnson wad gane half distracted
Wi' envy, had they but heard Ronald.
�3
He faund oot mair wonders than I could e're tell,
New methods for makin' an' suppin' your kail,
An' new farrant parritch frae essence o' meal,
0 great Epicurian Ronald.
He made a machine for spellin' and writing
That nane could gae wrang whan letters inditin';
An' gags for auld wives to keep them frae flytin'
Mere pla' wark, their makin' to Ronald.
He invented a stove for augmentin the heat
Of a lang winter nicht wi' the help o' ae peat,
In they times o' dear coal, had he lived to see't.
They could ne'er raised the price on auld Ronald.
His feet were encased in shoon o' his plannin,'
Sae supple and swack, the toes made for springing
Constructed for ease, for wakin,' or rinnin,'
They fitted like gloves on auld Ronald.
Amang a' the lave, for he tauld mair than me,
He could catch a' the fishes that swim in the sea,
Nae doot he could dane't for he ne'er tauld a lie,
Though some ablichs dooted auld Ronald.
An' though he was auld, and his claedin' but scanty,
Though mealpock and almorie were gey aften empty,
Yet still he was blithe as a young loon o' twenty,
For blithsome and cheerie was Ronald.
Though poor as the poor, wi' the poor he wad share
His very last coin or a whack o' his fare,
The beasts o' the field, or the birds o' the air,
Thocht nae less 'bout the morrow than Ronald,
�4
Some folk thought him crazed, a wee bit dementit,
But this statement I'll make,if the printer will print it,
There's a craze in maist folk if they only but kent it,
We're sib in some things to auld Ronald.
But death, the grim fae o' the wise man an fool,
Cam' his way, laid him low, noo he sleeps wi' the mool,
An left us to mourn him wi' sorrow an' dool,
For we'll ne'er see anither like Ronald.
And though he's awa, still in memory we'll cherish,
His gifts and his worth, we will never let perish,
That his name may livegreen is thehopean' the fond wish
Of a' that e're kent and lo'ed Ronald.
'TIS AN ILL WIND THAT BLAWS NAEBODY GWEED.
Some sing o' the winds, how they bellow and rave,
O' howlin tornado by land and by wave,
But let them sing on, for I hold by the creed—
" It is an ill wind that blaws naebody gweed."
Ye mind last October we waukend ae morn
To witness the wrack o' our toon by the storm,
Soon warkmen were busy on sclatin' an' lead,
For " tis an ill wind that blaws naebody gweed."
Yon puffy-cheeked parson can tell you richt weel
How Eve gaed to wrack wi' the help o' the De'il,
To him it is raiment, and weel buttered bread,
For " tis an ill wind that blaws naebody gweed."
�When neebours fa' oot ower a wee wind o' jaw,
To get satisfaction they rin to the law,
Ere the law gets its fee they are scrimpit indeed,
For " tis an ill wind that blaws naebody gweed."
There's puir Johnnie Drygirse has lost his auld wife,
Wi' a lang scaldin' tongue she tormented his life,
E'en Johnnie grinned oot when he heard she was dead,
" It is an ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
There's Tippler, ye ken him, on drink spends his gains,
A' busket in rags are his wife and his weans,
But ale-wives gae silk-clad frae tae to the head,
For " ti's an ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
There's Cuddie wha ruined himsel' by degrees,
Wi' his dinners an' wines an' extravagant sprees.
His comrades got fat on the excellent feed,
For " ti's an' ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
There's Sandy the souter wha courted Bell Duff,
Last week at some wordie frae her took the huff,
He aff doon to Maggie, got buckled wi' speed,
For " ti's an ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
There's Peter got drunk at the Kirktoun o' Echt,
He flang doon his claes for he wanted to fecht,
A loon wi' the things flew awa like a glede,
For ti's an ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
When statesmen brak doon, or a king gets a fa,'
Some chiel springs to power, claps his foot to the ba,'
Thus ilk change o' fortune proves stronger my creed,
" It is an ill win' that blaws naebody gweed."
HHHB
�6
MY
MITHER
TONGUE.
My mither tongue, my mither tongue,
Though grander speech there be,
And lowly is thy hame attire
Your dearer far to me,
Than flaunting speech in gaudy dress
That ever poet sung,
What words can gae about the heart
Sae warm's the mither tongue.
The mither tongue, the mither tongue,
The first we try to learn,
The words come sweetly on mine ear
I lispet when a bairn ;
In skuleboy days we English gat,
An' by our auld Scotch flung,
But skule-hours past an' out to play
We spak our mither tongue.
My mither tongue, my mither tongue
Rows saft and bonnilie
In mony a lay and cantie sang
As ane could wish to see,
The strains that Allan, Rab, and Hogg,
Wi' mony mair hae sung,
The warld canna boast sic sangs
There's in my mither tongue.
My mither tongue, my mither tongue,
What heart could thee withstan'
Can e'e keep dry to hear thy voice
Far in a foreign lan.'
�7
Ah no the scenes o' early days
Strong o'er my memory come,
The tears they glint adoun my cheek
To hear my mither tongue.
My mither tongue, my mither tongue,
Back through the drift o' years
Ye wake a scene : a Scottish glen—
My father's cot appears,
A siller burnie fresh an' clear
Wi' gouden broom o'erhung—
An' weel-kent faces o' auld frien's,
"Wha spak my mither tongue.
My mither tongue, my mither tongue,
0, lang o'er Scotlan' wide,
May ye be heard in ilka hame
A t ilka ingleside
O, may your couthie crack be lo'ed,
Endear'd to auld an' young,
An' doubly shamed the dastard loon
Wha slights his mither tongue.
TO T H E SCOTTISH VOLUNTEERS.
I will sing o' the land where the bold tartans wave,
Where the thistle grows green 'mid the free,
'Tis the land o' the hills, dark heath, and clear rills,
That gather in foam to the sea.
Oh wha wadna lo'e thee, Scotland, Scotland,
Land o' the mountain and lake,
Oh wha wadna arm when danger surrounds thee
Wha wadna bleed for thy sake.
�8
' T i s the land o' the heroes who barr'd the advance
Of the conquering cohorts of Rome,
[shocks
Where the green pine tree rocks 'neath the north tempest
Where the fierce eagle still finds a home.
Oh, wha wadna lo'e thee, Scotland, Scotland, &c.
'Tis the land where bold Wallace his banner unfurled,
And marshalled our sires to the fight;
Oh, Wallace thy name on the bright crest of fame
Will dim not but ever be bright.
Oh, wha wadna lo'e thee, Scotland, Scotland, &c.
'Tis the land o' the martyr, the fearless, and stern,
Who bowed not to Rome's priestly ire;
But strong in his trust in the God of the just,
Gave his limbs to the rack or the fire.
Oh, wha wadna lo'e thee, Scotland, Scotland, &c.
Oh, lang lang may ye flourish thou land o' the Bruce,
Of gallant king Robert the brave ;
May thy hills aye be seen as they ever have been,
Unconquered, untrod by a slave.
Oh, wha wadna lo'e thee, Scotland, Scotland, &c.
�
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Title
A name given to the resource
Auld Ronald: a well-known local character, and other rhymes
Subject
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Courtship and Marriage
emigration
Religion and Morals
Wit and Humor
War
Chapbooks - Scotland - Aberdeen
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1873
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953134483505154">s0255b37</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Tis an ill wind that blaws naebody gweed
My mither tongue
Extent
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8 pages
Abstract
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A collection of four ballads, mostly humorous. The first is a satirical ballad about a local figure named Auld Ronald who appears to be well-known around Aberdeen. He is humorously portrayed as scantily clad, poor, and possibly a bit crazy, although he appears to be able to talk on many topics at length, including philosophy and cooking. The ballad also describes several of the supposed inventions that he has created throughout his lifetime, such as a specially designed stove, type-writer, shoes, and even a gag for old scolding women. The second song is a humorous account claiming that “’Tis an Ill Wind That Blaw’s Naebody Gweed [Good]” by describing bad things that happened to people that others benefitted from. The third song is an ode to the author’s ‘mither [mother] tongue’. He describes its role in his own life, growing up speaking it with friends and family, as well as its connections to kin abroad, and its beauty in songs sung past and present. It is not immediately clear if the author is referring to Gaelic (which is not mentioned by name) or to Scots, which the song is written in. The final song is addressed to the Scottish Volunteers, and spends most of its time describing the beauty, history, and heroism of Scotland and those who fight to defend it. This chapbook is part of a collection of chapbooks produced in Aberdeen which have been bound together in this volume.
Is Referenced By
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National Library of Scotland <span><a href="http://www.nls.uk/"><span>http://www.nls.uk/</span></a></span>
Is Part Of
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Chapbook #7 in a bound collection of 17 chapbooks
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120 Ext 53413
Publisher
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Aberdeen: Printed for the author
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
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ballads & songs
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1871-1880
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Aberdeen: Printed for the author