The Old Bachelor's Yarn - Or, The Scornfu' Maiden

11th February 2006

Thanks to Hugh Ross for preparing another David Grant Poem from the Huna Book

The following Ballads were inserted here at the request of Dr. Sinclair of
Wick. They are rugged and rough as the scenes and characters they attempt to
illustrate. Their author claims for them no higher title than that of Rhymed
Tales of the Pentland Firth.
Signed
David Grant, Canisbay 27th April, 1859.

He also ended the series with the words

NB - The Scotch in these and other Yarns is not the Caithness but the
Aberdeen dialect, which has been here used as being less peculiar in its
provincialisms.

The Old Bachelor's Yarn

Or, The Scornfu' Maiden

As I came in by Dunnet Sands
I met a comely maiden;
Her face was fair, her een were bricht,
Her lips wi' kisses laden.

Quo' I, "if no' a goddess real,
You're fair enough to be one."
Quo' she, "Guidman, it may be so,
I never chanced to see one."

"O, is your heart your ain?" quo' I,
"Or could your lover spare it?
For I would deem my lot divine
If you'd consent to share it."

" O yes, my hearts my ain," quo' she,
"Nae lovers yet made prize o't-
But since I'm asked to share your lot,
Pray, what may be the size o't?"

Quoth I, " I hae a but an' ben,
A cellar an' a closet,
A yearly income sma' but sure-
I'll leave you to suppose it."

Quo' she, "Your haddin 's no amiss;
Your offer mak's me vauntie;
I'm sorry for your sake, guidman,
You made no 't to my auntie.
"She's liker to your match than I,
She's sonsy, staid, an' thrifty;
She has a trifle o' her ain,
An 's little turned o' fifty."

I jogged along the Dunnet Sands,
My heart wi' sorrow laden,
Nor e'er frae then till now hae sought
To woo anither maiden.