“Navis, quæ tibi creditum
Debes Virgilium.” CAR. I., 3.
NOO a’ ye winds, but ane that rair
An’ revel on the deep,
Respeck for ance a poet’s pray’r –
Swith to your caves, an’ sleep!
For Davy’s sake, wha taks the tide
This mornin’, be commaundit:
There’s fifty folk on Devonside
That wuss him safely laundit.
An’ yon, wham only we excepp –
Ahint his ship, an’ blaw!
An’ mind oor hearts are in that ship
That carries him awa’!
We’ll wauk the nicht upon oor hip
If ye should mak’ commotion,
An’ think the hoose is Davy’s ship
An’ Ochil earth the ocean!
Wha first to earth’s green limits ran
An’ coveted the sea –
Wha first to bigg a ship began,
A daurin’ ane was he.
As seas an’ surges owre him lash’d,
An’ monsters wallowed roond him,
Didna his speerit shrink abash’d,
His hardihude confoond him?
Surely the oceans were design’d
To separate the lands,
An’ men in wisdom were confin’d
In kindly kindred bands.
But mankind are a restless race,
Aye seekin’ new inventions,
An’ warpin’ a’ the gifts o’ grace
Clean fra their first intentions.
We gruppit steam: nae doot at first
It lookit braw an’ fine;
But mony a pat an boiler burst
Has answer’d for’t sin’ syne.
We flew a draigon: an’ the spark
Obeys a bairn if need is;
But look at the mischeevous wark
That’s wrocht wi’ thir torpeedies.
It’s lang sin’ pouther was fund oot;
But we’ve dune weel oorsel’ –
We’ve raised in dynamite, I doot,
The mucklest deil in hell.
There’s naething that we’ll no’ attemp’
If danger but commend it;
We’re mairchin’ at a bonnie tramp –
But, guidsake! what’s to end it?