Windermere, Nor go to Morecambe Bay; An’ though I’ve been to Malsis Hall, Where it is fearful grand, It’s nowt at all compared wi’ this—  The nicest place i’ t’land.

p. 84

For, O how splendid is the Lake, Wi’ scenery like this! If I cud nobbut stop a week, It wod be nowt amiss; A resolution nah I’ll mack, T’next summer what to do;— Asteead o’ comin’ for a day, I’ll stop a week or two.”

But nah we land at Bowness Pier, Then sooin we jump ashore, An’ back to t’Station we did steer, For rare an’ pleased we wor: So into t’train for back agean,  Owd friends once more to meet; An’ in a crack we’re landed back—  Bi ten o’clock at neet.

All join i’ praise to Mr. Mann, For t’management he made; An’ praise the gallant Turkey Band, For t’music ’at they play’d: An’ praise is due fra ivvery one  ’At shared i’ this diversion; All praise an’ thanks to Mr. Lund, Who gav this grand Excursion.

p. 85The Tartan Plaid.

p. 85

In Auld Lang Syne I’ve heard ’em say My granny then she wore A bonnie Scottish Tartan Plaid In them good days o’ yore; An’ weel I ken when I was young Some happy days we had, When ladies they were dress’d so gay In Scottish Tartan Plaid.

Me thinks I see my father now Sat working at his loom— I see my mother at the wheel—  In our dear village home; The swinging-stick I hear again, Its buzzin’ makes me sad, To think those happy days are gone When weaving Tartan Plaid.

It is not in a clannish view, For clans are naught to me, But ’tis our ancient Tartan Plaid I dearly love to see. ’Tis something grand ye will agree To see a Highland lad, Donn’d in his Celtic native garb, The grand old Tartan Plaid.

p. 86Our Soldier lads in tartan kilts Outshine our warriors bold (Who dress in scarlet, green, and blue, Decked off with shining gold); Just see our kilted lads so brave, It makes my heart feel glad, And ’minds me of my boyish days When dress’d in Tartan Plaid.

p. 86

“O wad some power” the hint we give Our Sovereign Lady Queen, To dress herself and lady maids In bonnie tartan sheen. Then treadles, shuttles, warp, and weft—  (For trade would not be bad)— Would rattle as in days of yore, When weaving Tartan Plaid.

The Pauper’s Box.

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