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“Tam o’ Stirling”

 

Frae the land o’ brown heath and tartan plaids,

Frae the country o’cakes and barley bannocks,

A comely selection o’ chields and maids,

On board of the Symmetry swung their hammocks.

 

The emigrants all were a worthy crew,

Frae south and west whom none surpases,

Where braxy mutton and mountain dew,

Rear sturdy callants and strappin’ lasses.

 

Farmers and blacksmiths, prize ploughmen were there,

Dairymaids fresh as the butter they made,

Guidwives wi’ their weans, sae rosy and fair,

And the honest guidman wi’ his collie and spade.

 

At Scotia’s shores were receding behind them

And the Symmetry furrowed along through the foam,

Each felt that no poet required to remind the,

That ever so humble there is no place like home.

 

And the elders confessed, as each blew his nose,

And stealthily wiping a trickling tear,

That darling Auld Scotland wi’ skim milk an’ brose,

Wad beat Buenos Aires and five hundred a year.

 

But sailing along we got soon reconciled,

As daily some wonder enchanted our view,

While frolicsome chappies the evenings beguiled,

Wi’ gruesome ghost stories they guaranteed true.

 

At length Biscay Bay, that dread o’ the sailor

They entered, and lo! Old Neptune was frowning,

Huge waves turned the cheeks of pluckiest paler,

And everyone thought ‘twas a matter of drowning.

 

Three days of tossing, sea-sick and forlorn,

A storm on the sea and a deil in their stomachs,

The emigrants wished they have never been born,

Tae be buffeted thus, and chucked frae their hammocks.

 

Wrathful surges becalmed, bright Phoebus appearing,

And storm tossed emigrants crawled up on deck,

They sang the ship’s praises, and lustily cheering,

Brave Cochrane the Captain wi’ deepest respect.

 

They assisted the crew wi’ a “Yoh heave Ho”

They played pitch and toss and primitive skittles,

But soon Symmeterians got wisely to know,

That at sea the finest diversion is victuals.

For sickness o’er and their appetites whetted,

Puir cookie was hunted frae aft to the fore

Eating was trumps, and the steward he fretted,

That famine would board them ere reaching the shore

 

But useless his fears, for a special tuck in,

O’ crackers and junk soon settled the matter

Twas saltish nae doubt but cook said, wi’ a grin,

That the Symmetry carried abundance o’water.

 

For ploughmen accustomed to parritch and kail,

Found petrified biscuits dourish tae munch,

While ancient salt pork made their appetites fail,

And willingly tackle the pump for their lunch.

 

They wondered what people the Argentines were,

Savage or civilized colour, and figure,

And lassies resolved they would droon themselves ere,

They’d gang without claes or be kissed by a nigger.

 

One morning the emigrants arose wi’ delight,

And joy did prevail amongst the Symmetry’s crew

As the topman hailed deck, Montevideo in sight

Though nought could be seen but a thin streak o’ blue.

 

Then all was activity, bustle, commotion

Of premature packing and donning o’ braws

Seemingly having adopted the notion,

Of flying ashore wi’ the gulls and sea maws.

 

For leagues lay between them and Argentine’s shore

And days would still pass ere they anchored off there,

But each morning the colonists packed as before,

And nightly unbundled again in despair.

 

Till bowling along up the billowy Plate,

The Symmetry struck wi’ a shudder and clank,

While the pilot he swore ‘twas the trick’ry o’ fate

Lured the Britishers on to the “English Bank”

 

Great was the wailing on this sudden disaster,

Tae stick in midstream as they neared Buenos Aires,

And all save wee Tammy, the daft poetaster,

Took to reading their bibles and saying their prayers.

 

At length they got off and free from the danger,

Heats filled wi’ delight as they sighted the shore,

Their land of adoption, home of the stranger,

From where they would ne’er go to sea any more.

 

The Symmetry anchored, boats gathered around them,

While jabbering foreigners their luggage received,

The Babel o’ tongues was enough to confound them

But naebody understood Scotch, they perceived.

 

Betimes there started a coo’cairt procession,

O’ colonists, implements, bedding and rations,

Bound for the South, where the Robertson concession,

Awaited to welcome the Scotch Immigration.