MEMORIALS O' LANG SYNE, OR SKETCHES OF THE PAST.

Southland Times, Issue 905, 24 February 1868, Page 3

MEMORIALS O' LANG SYNE, OR SKETCHES OF THE PAST.

BY JOHN G. SMITH. •- WEE PATIE THE LAIRD. n. [I appeal to every Scotchman who is acquainted with the upper ward of Lanarkshire, or with the pastoral districts of Peebleshire or Roxburghshire, if they have never met with the prototype of Wee Patie the Laird. Such a character is still often met with, though it is fast disappearing before the large farm system which is swallowing up — like the rod of the prophets-all the. small independent lairdships which were so prominent a feature in the social life of the "Auld Countrie." "We Patie" here depicted was no myth, he was a personal friend of the author, and was photographed as the type of a class which is fast passing away into the shades of oblivion.]

"Wee Patie the Laird, he had ance heen a miller, Wi' grindin' folk's meldin's he made a' his siller, It is said — but I never can think it is true, That his were bigger than what was Ins due. Bo that as it may, a bit lairdehip he coft, A house tti' twa ends, and some acres o' croft ; A crummie, a grumphie, an' hens i' the yard, Were a' the li\e stock o' wi' Patie the Laird. Wee Patie was couthie an' lilrit a dram j An' whiles to the clachan at eenin' he cam ; An' he an' the smith wad birlmonv a groat, To drown the wee spark that was burning their throat. Auld Men's wad drap in, and the gill stoup wad clink — For there's aye routh o* frien's when there's plenty to drink — Losh ! how they a' sang, an' havered an raired, Till hame they'd to oxter wee Patie the Laird. Wee Patie the Laird, had a cabbit auld wife, Wha teased an' perplexed him the hale of his life; Frae mornin' till ee'n, by the ingle she sat, (She'd a nose like an elshen, an' c'en like a cat), An' luntit her cuttie, an' girnit an' gowled, Like a dud on the brow o' a tempest she scowl'd ; The weans were in rags, but the fient o' her cared ; Sic a slut was the wife o' wee Patie the Laird. But bb gude luck wad hae't, ac day she did dee, An' Patie, puir chield, bad a tear in his e'e ; An' he dangled a yard o' guide crape frae his hat, To keep him in mm' o' the paiks he had gat ; Now lassies, tak' tent, for Wee Patie's abroad, An* wants a bit wife to cheer up his abode ; He's a rash c'antie carle, an' yell no be ill wared, If ye waddle thro' life wi' Wee Patie the Laird.