T Whyte Paterson

Verse 1.

THE WYSE-SAYINS O' SOLOMON, THE SON O' DAUVID, KING O' ISRAEL.

Anent the airtin o' the hale book.

Verses 2-6.

To ken what's wyse an' what's guid guidin;

To hae an inklin intil the words o' guid understaun'in;

To get advisins intil the cannie dailins o' life,

Intil richteousness, an' jidgment, an' even-doon weys;

To gie pith to the feckless;

To the growin laddie richt-kennin an' discreetness;

That the man o' mense may speel the heicher,

An' that ony body wi' a pickle sense

May be better kent, e'en yet,

For his gleg, straucht-gaun coonsel:

To ken for yer ainsel a wyse-sayin,

An' to grup what may be the ettlin o't,

Ye hae afore ye THE WORDS O' THE WYSE,

An' their AULD SAWS,

Weel-worth an eident sairch.

The saicret at the tap o' a',— THE FEAR O' THE LORD.

Verse 7.

THE FEAR O' THE LORD— Begin wi' that;

That's the in-comin o' a' richt-kennins:

But sic-like as hae nae sense ava

Mak licht o' what's wyse,

An' ocht that airts to guid guidin.

Verses 8-9.

My laddie, herken to the advisins o' yer faither,

An' dinna mislippen the biddens o' yer mither;

For they'll e'en be like a bonnie croon On the heid o' ye,

An' braw buskin o' chains

Aboot the neck o' ye.

Verses 10-19.

Mv laddie, gin sinners wad weise ye awa,

Hae nocht to dae wi' ane o' them.

Gin they micht be sayin t'ye,—

"Hey, my lad! Yoke wi' oorsels;

Lat us be snowkin thegither for blude;

Lat us slink aboot, in hiddlins, eftir the hairmless;

Lat us swallow them ootricht,

As the very grave itsel wad dae't;

Ay! clean oot o' sicht,

As tho' they had a' ploppit ower

Intil some gaipin black moss-hag:

"Eh! but we'll mak a gausie scran o't;

We'll pang oor hooses fu' o' the gettins:

Tak pot-luck wi' us, my lad,

Gang share-an'-share alike,

Jist ae muckle wallet 'mang us a'."

My laddie, for ony sake, I'm sayin,

Cleek nane wi' the sornin loons;

Haud aff their gate;

They're ettlin on naething but wrang,

An' maybe—-wha kens-—the skailin o' blude

Afore a's dune.

It's a gey gawkie bird, is yon same ane,

That haps straucht alang to be trappit

In some kenspeckle girn,

Loopit up an' laid oot,

In the sicht o' its goupin een.

An' sic-like as I'm tellin ye o', enoo,

Are fanklin an' girnin themsels:

They're no thinkin this o't, I wat,

Still-an'-on it's the truth:

It's themsels an' their weal,

Wi' their snowkin an' slinkin aboot,

That, belyve, they'll be whummlin ower.

That's the fac': that's the ootcome to a'

Wha troke wi' the glaumin o' greed;

An' ye'se see't for yersel: their ain lives it'll be,

That they'll taiver an' smoor in the lang-run.

Verses 20-33.

WISDOM cries oot on the causey,

Athort the braid haudens o' men;

She's thrang ower-by at the merkets,

An' oot an' in by the entries,

An' a' through the toon,

She's cryin, an' sayin:—

"Hoo lang, ye saft, feckless craiturs,

Are ye gaun to be sae thowless—

Geckin at what's guid,

An', like the fules ye are,

Haudin aff frae richt-kennins?

"Swee yersels roun', whan ye hear my repruif.

"Tak tent! For I'm fain to gie ye my speerit,

An' mak my words weel-kent to ilk ane o' ye.

Ower an' ower again I've hoyit an' cry't,

But ye've a' been dour an' deif-luggit;

I've rax't oot my haun,

But ye fash't yersels nane;

The coonsel I spak, ye hae slichtit,

An' wadna hear ocht o' advisins.

"But bide awee! I'll hae the lauch

In the day that ye're trauchl't;

I'll geck at you,

Whan ye're chitt'rin wi' dreid;

Whan on comes yer fricht

Like a blashin spate;

Whan doon comes yer skaith

Like a swirlin blast;

Whan dule an' wae ye maun dree."

Nae doobt, they'll speir for me then;

But I'll answer them nane:

Seekin me then they wad be;

But fin' me they'll no.

For didna they haud aff richt-kennins?

They waled-na the fear o' the Lord;

Ay! they'd herken to nae advisins;

They slichtit a' my repruif.

An' sae, they maun dree their ain weird,

An' be chokit wi' their ain ill-daeins,

Slippin back, an' gaun doon in their fecklessness,

An', like the fules, I tell ye, they are,

They'll be smoored 'neth the routh o' their ain fulishness.

But, whae'er wad herken weel to mysel,

A braw an' a couthie hauden he'll hae;

In a lown, lown howff he'll be happit ower

Wi' nae dreid o' ill ava.

Wisdom can redd the road frae a' mainner o' ills.

Verses 1-4.

Mv laddie, gin ye'll herken to what I tell ye,

An' think muckle o' my commauns;

Gin ye'll gie tentie lug to the ca' o' wisdom,

An' ettle yer hairt to guid understaun'in;

'Deed, gin ye grein for richt insicht,

An' mak a wark aboot gettin an' inklin o't;

Gin ye'll grup at hersel as at siller,

An' howk for her as for a pat o' gowd

Laid awa in some bit hidie-hole:

Verses 5-8.

Then, I'se warrant, ye'll staun in the fear o' the Lord,

An' fin' for yersel the richt-kennin o' God:

For it's the Lord Himsel that gies wisdom;

Knowledge an' understaun'in are His ain hansel:

He lays-by guid guidin for a' the upricht;

He's nane less than a shield to sic-like as are leal;

For weel He wad waird His ain warks for the true,

An' uphaud, oot-through a', ilka ane o' His saunts.

Verses 9-11.

Then, I'se warrant, that fine ye'll be fettl't,—

Fettl't for ocht that airts by the richt,

Fettl't for even-doon dailins wi' a',

'Deed, ilka guid gate ye'll be kennin;

For wisdom, in-ower to yer hairt, 'll gang ben,

An' knowledge ye'se walcome deep doon in yer saul;

Discreetness 'll fen' ye frae ill,

An' guid understaun'in 'll kep ye fu' brawlie.

Verses 12-15.

To redd ye frae airts that are wrang,

Frae folk wi' the ill-scraipit tongues,

Wha sklent awa frae the richt,

An' gang doon whaur the mirk lies thick;

Wha are gleg at the daein o' ill,

An' swick ower the warst they can wale;

Whas weys are as crookit as can be,

An' their gangins a' clean gane agley.

Verses 16-19.

To redd ye frae the ill-deedie wumman,

Frae the fremit craitur, wha fraises wi' her tongue;

Wha gangs-back-on the frien' o' her young days,

An' cuists aff her the tryst o' her God:

For her hoose, lat me tell ye, sklents daith-ward,

An' her fit-pads airt doon to the deid:

No ane 'll come back that taks her gate,

No ane o' them a' has a chance ava

O' the brawest gliff o' life.

Verses 20-22.

An' a' this, my ain laddie,

That ye may gang forrit wi' sic-like as are guid,

An' haud on by the gate o' the richteous;

For the upricht 'll keep their haudens siccar,

Ay! the upricht 'll never be steer't;

But the wicked 'll be sneddit clean aff,

An' the warkers o' deceiverie 'll be rutit oot—

They'll be rutit oot a'thegither.

Verses 1-10.

Mv laddie, dinna forget my biddens;

But haud my commauns in yer hairt:

For mony braw days, 'deed, braw years o' life,

An' lownness, wull they eik to yersel.

Dinna mislippen mercy an' truth;

Bin' them aboot the neck o' ye;

See till't, that they're scriven upon yer hairt;

An' ye'se get guid-wull, an' nae sma' respeck

In the sicht baith o' God an' man.

Tryst yersel to the Lord wi' a' yer hairt;

Dinna lippen overlie to yer ain understaun'in:

Ilka gate ye wad tak, gie thocht to Him,

An' He'll airt yer gangins fu' brawlie.

Dinna be thinkin ocht muckle o' yersel;

Hae the fear o' the Lord,

An' haud yont frae the wrang:

That'll be the very health o' ye,

An' marrow till yer banes.

Oot o' the gear that ye gether thegither,

Mind weel that ye gie to the Lord;

Gie the first an' the best o' a'thing:

An' yer barns 'll aye be weel-stockit,

An' yer vats 'll be lippin fu',

They'll be reamin fu' an' skailin,

Wi' the red bree o' the grapes.

Verses 11-18.

Mv laddie, dinna mak licht o' the Lord's correckins,

Nor be yaumerin ower repruifs, that He sen's ye;

For sic-like as He lo'es

He repruves, whan they need it,

As ony faither wad dae

Wi' the callan he likes.

Happy, rale happy is the man wha fin's wisdom,

An' the man wha gets guid understaun'in;

For a stockin o' that

Is better, a hantle, than stockin o' siller;

The oot-come o' that

Is mair than the hainins o' gowd;

She's far abune glisterin rubies;

'Deed, there's naething ava,

O' the things ye micht grein for,

To liken to her.

Lang days--days o' life--

In her richt haun she brings;

In her left she'll hae routh

O' the best gear an' honour:

Her weys, as ye'll fin',

Are pleesant a' through,

An' cannie an' lown

Are the gates o' her gangins.

She's life, wi' the frutes o't,

To a' that haud till her;

An' blythe is ilk ane

That maks her his ain.

Verses 19-20.

THE Lord, in His wisdom,

Has foondit the yirth;

An' siccarlie set

A' the heichs o' the heavens.

By knowledge, His ain,

Cam the howes o' the sea,

An' the lift, abune a',

Sen's the draps o' the dew.

Verses 21-26.

Mv laddie, dinna lat them get oot o' yer sicht;

Aye haud on by the heichest wisdom an' discreetness:

An' ye'll fin' that they're yer life,

Abune a' life ye ken,

An' braw graithin, as weel,

To the neck o' ye.

Then ye'll gang yont yer ain gate siccarlie,

An' yer fit 'll be stoiterin nane.

Whan, at nicht, ye lie doon,

Naething 'll scaur ye;

'Deed, whan ye lie doon,

Ye'll sleep as soun's a tap.

Syne ye needna be fley't for ony stramash,

Or the doon-come o' wrang-doers, whan that ye see;

For ye can brawlie keep up yer hairt,

Lippenin to the Lord Himsel,

An' by His ain cannie airtin

He'll kep yer fit frae ony fanklin.

Verses 27-35.

DINNA withhaud ony guid ye can dae

To sic-like as are weel-deservin,

Whan fine ye ken this o't yersel,

That ye've routh to dae't wi'.

DINNA be sayin to yer neibour,—

"Weel, weel! Gang yer weys the noo,

An' syne come back the morn,

An' I'se see what I can dae for ye."--

Whan ye've got mair than eneuch in yer pooch

To help him at ance.

DINNA be ettlin ony ill anent yer neibour,

An' him steyin e'en next-door t'ye, jaloosin naething.

DINNA be fechtin wi' onybody needlesslie,

Whan nocht o' hairm's been dune to yersel.

DINNA fash yer hairt anent the camsteerie,

An' gang nane ower-by his gate.

FOR wi' the crookit trokers,

The Lord 'll hae nocht to dae ava;

An' the saicret, that's a' His ain,

Is only kent by the upricht.

The sair, sair ban o' the Lord

Lichts on the hoose o' the wicked;

But the couthie bield o' His blessin

Haps the hauden o' His ain folk.

Tho' He gecks at them wha geck at guid,

He'll gie blythesome grace to the lown-hairtit.

The wyse 'll get the tocher o' His glorie;

But shame itsel 'll be the bombaisement o' fules.

Verses 1-9.

HERKEN, my laddies, to the instruckins o' yer faither,

An' tak tent to get guid understaun'in;

For the coonsel I'm speakin is richt,

Gin ye'se haud by the biddens I gie.

For mysel, I aye held by my faither,

An' clung by the sweet, couthie love o' my mither;

As a callan, like you, I got his advisins,

An' this was what he tell't me:--

"Lat yer hairt lay-by what I say;

Keep my commauns, an' hae life:

Get wisdom,

Get discreetness.

"Dinna forget that;

Dinna gang-back-on ocht that I've said;

Dinna mislippen her,

An' she'll no mislippen yersel;

Lo'e her,

An' she'll look eftir ye brawlie.

Wisdom--that's HER--the bunemaist o' ony:

Get Wisdom.

See till't! Whate'er yer gettins may be,

Get guid understaun'in.

"Set her tapmaist, I'm sayin,

An' yer life she'll upheize;

She'll airt ye to honour

Whan ye mak her yer ain.

"She'll clap on yer heid

A braw graithin o' grace,

A croon--naething less--

Is the buskin she'll gie."

Verses 10-19.

TAK tent, my laddie, an' herken to what I tell ye,

An' ye'se hae mony braw years o' life afore ye.

I've try't to ettle ye in the wey o' wisdom;

I've airtit ye yont the gate o' what's guid:

As ye gang on, yer feet 'll no be fankl't,

An', gin ye hae ony rinnin to dae,

Ye'se no tummle.

Tak a close grup o' guid coonsel;

Dinna lat her awa;

Haud her;

For she's the very life o' ye.

Ne'er pit a fit on the pads o' the wicked,

An' kep yersel frae the wey o' the ill-daein.

Dinna look the airt o't;

Dinna gang near't;

Haud awa frae't;

An' gang oot-ower.

For ilka day they're thrang ower some mischieff,

An' they canna gang to sleep at nichts,

Unless they've gi'en somebody a jundie.

It's their meat, ye wad think, to dae wrang,

An' their drink, to dae hairm.

The wey o' the richteous airts on

Frae the licht o' the mornin,

That brichtens, an' brichtens the mair,

Till the day's at its brawest.

But, foment that, the wey o' the wicked

Sklents doon, an' doon to the mirk,

An' nocht can they see

O' what whummies them ower.

Verses 20-27.

Mv laddie, gie tentie care to my words;

Len' yer lugs. to ilk thing that I'm tellin;

Lat nane o' them drap frae yer sicht;

Hap them weel in the mids o' yer hairt.

For they're life to ilk ane that'll grup them,

An' guid health to the body as weel.

Abune a' that ye gaird, gaird yer hairt,

For the ootcome o' life is settl't in-by.

Binna forritsome wi' yer tongue,

An' lat nae smachrie words smit yer lips;

Lat yer een be aye lookin forrit,

An' the skance o' yer e'e, straucht on.

Keep an even-doon pad for yer feet,

An' lat a' yer weys be made shair;

Swee nane to the richt or the left,

An' haud on oot the gate o' the wrang,

Straucht forrit.

A faither's warnin ower the skaiih o' an ill-deedie wumman.

Verses 1-6.

Mv laddie, tak tent to my coonsel,

Len' yer lug to a' my advisins;

That yersel may ettle discreetness,

An' crack as ane haein knowledge.

For the lips o' an ill-deedie wumman

Drap hinnie,

An' her words are fair fraisin,

Like butter;

But, eftirhins,--Eh! they'll be soor,

Soor as wurmwud,

They'll be sherp as a swurd,

Dooble-edged.

The feet o' her sklent to the deid,

An' her fit-steps airt yont by the grave.

For sic-like a hizzie as this

There's nae even-doon life ava;

A' her weys are as shooglie as can be,

Tho', as yet, she may no be awaur o't,

May no tak ae thocht o't hersel.

Verses 7-14.

Noo, my laddie, to mysel herken weel,

An' haud ticht by the words o' my mooth.

Keep yont frae the craitur, far yont,

An' ne'er slink ye near her door-cheek;

Else ye'll niffer the guid name ye hae,

An' the best o' yer years 'll be fyl't;

Yer stren'th 'll be broizl't an' tint,

An' to ithers ye'll wark for yer meat.

At the hinner-en', eh! ye'll be wae,

Whan ye ken that yer life dwinnles oot;

An' ye'll say, "Hoo I slichtit guid coonsel,

An' lauch't to mysel at repruif;

I naither wad lippen richt biddens,

Nor herken to frien's that wad speak them;

Intil a' kinds o' pliskies o' wrang

I gaed on, ramstam, 'thort the toon."

Verses 15-19.

Slocken drouth at the spring that's yer ain,

Frae the waters in-by yer ain waal.

Should yer springs be cuisten abreid,

Like burns rinnin ower on the causey?

Lat them be for nane but yersel,

An' no for the gangrels aboot ye.

Lat the spring-heid o' life fesh ye blessin,

An' be blythe wi' yer young guid-wife.

As a dawtit hynde,

An' a bonnie da,

Lat hersel be eneuch for ye aye;

Wi' her love be ta'en up a'thegither.

Verses 20-23.

My laddie, what for, wi' the ill-deedie wumman,

Or the gangeral lass, wad ye mint to tak up?

For the weys o' a man are afore the Lord's sicht,

An', I'se wad, He kens weel a' the airts o' his gangins.

His daein o' wrang 'll girn the wrang-doer;

He'll tichtlie be bun' by the raips o' his sin,

O' the sin that's his ain;

An' he'll dee, ay! he'll dee,

For no takin advisins;

An' by fulishness glaikit

He'll aye gang the farer the wrang,

An' be lost!

Verses 1-5.

Mv laddie, gif yer promise ye've gi'en

To come-guid for some neibour,

Gif yer word ye hae wad

For some gangeral craitur;

Then ye've girn't yer ainsel

By the words o' yer mooth;

Ay! ye've girn't yersel shair

By the words o' yer mooth.

Then, haste ye, my laddie,

An' redd up the pliskie;

For the poo'er o' yer neibour

Is ower ye, atweel!

Gang doon on yer hunkers,

An' beg for his peetie;

An' ne'er gang to sleep,

An' ne'er steek an e'e,

Till yersel ye hae redd,

Like a da frae the hunter,

Or a hynde frae the man wi' the girns.

Verses 6—11.

Awa to the ant, ye lazy loon,

Tak tent to her weys, an' hae sense;

For wi' nane to airt her at ettlin,

An' wi' nae grieve ower-lookin her,

An' wi' nocht o' a maister ava,

She lays-by her meat in the simmer,

An' gethers-in her providin through the hairst.

Hoo lang are ye gaun to lie snoozlin there,

Ye shauchlin sumph?

I wad like to ken

Whan yer sleep-sleepin 'll be dune?

"A wee thing mair o't;

Jist anither blink, man;

Lat my shanks alane

For an hoor or twa."

That's the gate

That poortith 'll pyke ye like a reiver,

An' sned aff a' ye hae,

As gin he had whang't it awa wi' a whittle.

Verses 12-15.

A SCABBIT, capernoitit craitur,

An ill-daein body--

He strunts aboot wi' an impident gab;

He winks an' winks wi' his een;

He shauchles abreid wi' his feet;

He maks signs wi' his fingers;

He's glaikit at the hairt o' him;

He's aye ettlin some ploy o' wrang;

Ilka day he's the cause o' sair rippets.

The skaith o' siccan a ane

Wull come doon in a gliff;

In the glisk o' a flaucht

He'll be daudit clean sindry,

An' that ayont remeid.

Verses 16-19.

THERE be sax things,

That the Lord 'll hae nane o':

'Deed, the're seeven,

That He abominates a'thegither:—

Vauntie een;

A leein tongue;

Hauns that herry the hairmless;

A hairt that's aye ettlin thochts o' wrang;

Feet that are stentit intil mischieff;

A dooble-mindit witness wha'll lee like onything;

An' the body wha saws bickerins amang brithers.

Verses 20-23.

Mv laddie, haud on by the commauns o' yer faither,

An' dinna mislippen the biddens o' yer mither;

Bin' them. tichtlie, an' for aye, roun' the hairt o' ye,

An' buckle them close aboot the neck o' ye.

Whaure'er ye gang,

This 'll airt ye;

Whan ye're sleepin,

This 'll gaird ye;

Whan ye're wauken,

This 'll crack wi' ye.

For the commaun

Is a cruisie in itsel;

The richt bidden

Is a leamin licht;

An' the repruifs o' guid advisins

Are the very life o' ye.

Verses 24-28.

To fen' ye frae the ill-deedie wumman,

Frae the fraise o' her fremit tongue;

Dinna grein for the craitur,

Tho' she be bonnie,

An' dinna lat her grup ye

Wi' the glint o' her een.

For it's jist by sic-like as hersel,

That a man may be brocht to his hunkers;

Ay! doon to the moulins o' bread,

An' nae less than the loss o' his life.

Can a man gether fire in his airms,

An' his claes no be brunt?

Can a man dauner yont ower het shunners,

An' the soles o' his feet no be birslet?

Verses 29-35.

Sae the man, wha daes wrang

Wi' the wife o' his neibour,

Maun dree the hale skaith o't,

An' he'll fin' that the paikin's a sair ane.

Gin a man, whan he's hungry,

Should steal a bit thing

For a bite to his mooth,

Folk dinna think muckle aboot it;

Altho', gif he's nabbit,

He'll hae to pey't back,

Ay Seeven times ower,

By roupin what's left o' his hauden.

But whae'er may dae wrang

Wi' the wife o' his neibour,

Has nae understaun'in ava;

It's his saul, ay! the saul o' himsel

That he's broizlin;

It's disgrace, black disgrace,

That he's gettin;

An' the fleck o't, for him,

Wull ne'er on the yirth dicht awa.

For jailousie steers a rampagin;

Nae man 'll spare ocht o' the skaith o't;

Nae siller he'll look at;

He'll be satisfeet nane

Wi' the biggest an' brawest o' praisents.

Verses 1-5.

My laddie, mind my tellins;

Lay in-by yersel my commauns:

Haud till them siccarlie,

An' ye'se hae life--

E'en my biddens,

Like the aipple o' yer e'e:

Bin' them, an' rink them roun' yer fingers,

An' see till't, that they're scriven upon yer hairt.

Say to Wisdom, "Ye're my ain sister,"

An' Ca' Understaun'in yer cuisen;

An' they'll aye fen' ye weel

Frae the ill-deedie wurnman,

Frae the fremit craitur,

Wha wad be fraise-fraisin ye wi' her tongue.

Verses 6-23.

For at the winnock o' my hoose

I keekit oot ayont the swee o't,

An' I saw amang the gawkie loons--

Little mair than callans they were--

I saw a young chiel,

Wi' nae muckle gumption.

He was gaun alang the causey near her corner;

He was takin the very airt o' her hoose,

In the gloamin,

At the e'enin hoor,

As the darklins o' the nicht were comin doon;

An' there was the hizzie to meet him,

The sleekie, ill-deedie wumman.

She's a licht-heidit, glaikit limmer;

She'll stey nane in her ain hoose;

Noo, she's oot on the causey;

Noo, she's alang by the merkets,

An' at ilka corner she's on the oot-look.

Sae she took him by the airms,

An' there she kiss't him;

An' wi' impidence, the heicht o't,

Glowerin in the face o' her,

Quo' she to the chiel:—

"I hae offerins o' guid-wull wi' me;

This very day I've been takin thocht o't:

Sae I cam oot to meet ye,

To see gin I could meet yersel,

An', noo, I've fand ye here.

"I've buskit the bink wi' braw graithin,

Wi' strippit cleedin frae Egypt itsel;

An' I've strinkl't ower a'

The sweet-scentit fineries:

Come awa; swither nane;

Lat's hae love to oor likins till the mornin,

Lat's hae't to oor likens:

For the guid-man's awa frae hame;

He's gane aff to far-awa pairts;

He's taen a fu' wallet alang wi' him,

An' he'se no be back inside a month."

Wi' her sliddry tongue

She man's to come ower him;

Wi' the fraisin o' her mooth

She gars him gie in.

He gangs eftir her at the meenit

Like the nowte till the slauchter-hoose,

Or like the man that's sneckit in airns

Wha maun herken to the blethers o' a fule--

Till a sherp flane dings through him.

Like a silly bit birdie

He haps intil the girn,

An' the puir, thowless sumph

Doesna ken that he's gaun to his daith.

Verses 24-27.

An' sae, my laddies, herken weel to mysel,

An' tak tent to the words o' my mooth:

Ne'er lat yer hairt ettle yont by her weys,

An' skient nane oot-ower by her pads.

For mony a ane has she cuisten doon,

Sair clour't;

Ay! mony a ane has she clour't

Clean deid:

The airt o' her hoose is that airt--

To the grave,

Doon, aye, an' doon, to thae chaumers

O' daith itsel.

Verses 1-11.

Is that no Wisdom

That ye hear cryin?

Is that no Understaun'in,

Wha wad lat ye hear her crackin wi' ye?

On the tap o' the heich places

Oot-ower by the road-side,

Whaur the roads cross,

There she taks her stance;

By the big yetts

At the in-gaun to the toon,

An' at ilka door-cheek aboot the place,

She's cryin that a' may ken.

Till yersels, a' ye carls, this is my ca',

An' my words are to ane an' a'.

O ye feckless chiels,

Lairn wisdom;

An' ye thowless craiturs,

Seek guid understaun'in.

Tak tent, for I'm tellin ye, noo,

The brawest things o' ony;

I want ye to ken, abune a',

What's the richt:

It's nocht but the leal an' the true,

That I'll speak,

For I ne'er wad lat wrang

Smit my lips.

Ilka word o' my mooth is a richteous ane;

There's nane o' them crookit ava:

They're as plain as can be,

To him wha wad see;

An' he kens that they're richt,

Wha wad wale the first wale o' richt-kennins.

Gie a walcome to a' my advisins,

Ay! far afore siller;

A walcome to a' thae richt-kennins

Afore ony wale o' gowd:

For wisdom is far abune glisterin rubies,

'Deed, there's naething ava

O' the things ye micht grein for,

To liken to her.

Verses 12-21.

I'M Wisdom that's crackin wi' ye;

Cannie prudence an' mysel dwall thegither,

An' I sairch oot nicht-kennins an' discreetness.

The fear o' the Lord, that's leal,

Is to dislike wrang o' a' kinds.

Pride an' upsettin,

An' the gate o' ill-daein,

An' the ill-scraipit, ill-faur't tongue,

I'll hae nocht to dae wi' ava.

Braw coonsel is mine,

An' richt-kennins,

An' guid understaun'in:--

I'm the pith o' life.

By mysel, kings grup their poo'er as kings,

An' princes gie the laws that are richt:

By mysel, princes are uphauden,

An' a' the heich anes forbye,

E'en the jidges oot-ower the yirth.

I lo'e sic-like as lo'e me;

An' a' that seek me,

Wi' an eident hairt,

Wull fin' me, shair.

Gear an' respeck gang alang wi' mysel--

The gear that'll no crine awa, an' richteousness;

What I hae to gie is far abune gowd,

Ay! far abune gowd at its brawest--

Better than ony wale o' siller ye micht gether.

My gangins are aye in the airts o' richteousness,

In the mids o' the pads o' jidgment;

That ilka ane, wha lo'es mysel,

May come by the graun'est tocher,

That I may pang a' their awmries fu' o' guid.

Verses 22-31.

THE Lord Himsel set me up,

At the beginnin o' His ain oot-gaun,

Afore a' His warks o' langsyne.

Frae that langsyne,

Frae that beginnin,

Afore there was a yirth ava,

Whan there were nae howes o' the sea,

I cam to life;

Whan there were nae spring-heids

Jawin ower wi' water.

Afore the muckle mountains had been foondit,

Afore a' the bits o' hills,

I cam to life;

Afore that He had shuppen the yirth,

Or the braid acres o't,

Or the very taits o' stoor

For the biggin o' the big warld.

Whan He set up the heavens, I was there mysel;

Whan He laid a spang ower the breidth o' the sea;

Whan the lift abune was made siccar;

Whan the springs o' the sea were reamin fu';

Whan the mairches o' the sea were settl't,

That the waters o't should ken to be biddable.

Whan He merkit oot the foonds o' the yirth,

I was near-haun Him at the time,

As a maister ower the biggin o' sic wonner-warks;

Ilka day His delicht was in me,

An' blythe was mysel to be wi' Him—

Sae blythe ower the yirth He had made for His folks,

An' sae blythe anent them, the bairns o' mankind.

Verses 32-36.

AN' sae, my ain laddies,

Herken weel to me noo;

For blessin 'll fa' upon a'

That gang yont in the wey that's my ain.

Tak ye tent to instruckins,

An', 'deed, ye'se be wyse,

An' dinna say, Na,

To Wisdom yersels.

For that blessin 'll drap

On the man wha herkens to me,

Ilka day keepin watch at my yetts,

Waitin on at the cheeks o' my door.

An' whae'er fin's mysel

Fin's the gliff o' life,

An' the Lord's guid-wull.

But whae'er wad staun' oot against me

Wad dae wrang to the saul that's his ain;

An' whae'er taks dislikens for me

Taks sair likens for daith itsel.

Verses 1-6.

WISDOM has biggit her hoose,

Uphauden by seeven braw pillars;

The beasts hae been kill't for a feast,

The wine's a' forrit an' ready,

An' the buird's been plenish't wi' galore.

She's order't her lassies athort,

An' frae a' the heich pairts o' the toon

She's hoyin an' cryin:--

"Whae'er is feckless amang ye,

Come in-by;

Whae'er has sma' understaun'in,

Come in-ower;

Here's fine feedin for ye,

Here's wine I hae ready."

Quat the auld gangins, ye feckless craiturs;

Come in-by, an' get a gliff o' life,

An' tak ye the airts o' guid understaun'in.

Verses 7-9.

WHA ettles to correck a gecker at guid

May get naething but snash for his pains:

Wha offers repruif to an ill-daein man

May e'en get a fleck o' his ill.

Lat the gecker alane,

Or he'll hate ye;

Gie repruif to the wyse,

An' he'll lo'e ye.

Gie instruckins to him,

An' he'll aye get the wyser;

To the man that's upricht,

An' he'll aye lairn the mair,

The aulder he growes.

Verses 10-12.

THE fear o' the Lord

Is the spring-heid o' wisdom:

The richt-kennin o' the Haly Ane--

That's guid understaun'in.

Get that for yersel,

An' yer days 'll be mony;

Ay! the years o' yer life

Wull be lang streekit oot.

Gin ye're wyse,

Then ye're wyse for yersel an' yer weal;

But geck at what's guid,

An' the skaith o't ye'll dree yer lane.

Verses 13-18.

THE fulish wumman has a rantin tongue;

She's a tawpie,

An' kens naething;

She sits at her ain door-cheek,

Or aboot the heich pairts o' the toon,

Roarin to a' that gang by--

Ilka ane gaun on his ain airt:--

"Whae'er is feckless amang ye,

Come in-by;

Whae'er has sma' understaun'in--

"Waters, that are stown,

Are the sweet anes,

An' bread, that's gotten by hiddlins,

Maks a gustie bit bite."

But onybody, wha herkens to siccan a ane,

Doesna ken that her hoose hauds the deid,

An' that a', gaun in-ower by the same,

Are gaun yont, straucht yont to their grave.

Verse 1.

THE WYSE-SAYINS O' SOLOMON.

Verse 1.

A LADDIE wi' a pickle gumption maks his faither rale prood o' him;

But a thochtless callan gies his mither mony a sair hairt.

2.

Gear that's gether't by scafferie 'll bring blythe ootcome to naebody;

But richteousness 'll redd a man frae the grups o' daith itsel.

3.

The Lord 'll ne'er lat ony o' His ain be sair scrimpit;

But He'll steek the door ticht against the ettlins o' the wicked.

4.

The man that's slack in the haun 'll sune be toom in the purse;

But the haun that's eident is the haun that gethers the gear.

5.

He's a sensible chiel, wha lays-by through the simmer;

But onybody, wha driddles in the hairst-time, 'll shame his ain folk by-ord'nar.

6.

Mony are the blessins that are strinkl't ower the heid o' the richteous;

But mony a sair dour 'll be clankit on the gab o' the wicked.

7.

The memorie o' the guid is aye wi' us in a' its blythesomeness;

But the name o' the ill-doers 'll crine awa to naething.

8.

A' the wyse at hairt tak tent to commauns gi'en them;

But a bletherin coof 'll come doon wi' a daiverin dunt some day.

9.

Wha gangs uprichtly, gangs siccarlie;

Wha taks the crookit gate, 'll hae his name blabbit ower the hale pairish.

10.

The man that's aye wink-winkin wi' his een, ettles muckle ill:

An' a lowse-tongued craitur 'll get a clarty tummle afore he's through wi't.

11.

The crack o' a guid man brings a gliff o' life;

But the crack o' the wicked is nocht but camsteerie clash.

12.

Ill-wull steers up a' mainner o' rippets;

But, whaur there's love, mony bits o' mistaks are quaitly happit oot o' sicht.

13.

Wha has guid insicht, kens hoo to speak sense:

Wha wants gumption, wants a rung reislin on his back.

14.

Men o' mense are aye gleg to pit an eik to what they ken already;

But fules, by their blether-bletherin, dae the warst for themsels.

15.

The gear o' the rich man gairds him like a castle;

But the poortith o' the puir hauds him doon on his hunkers.

i6.

The thrangness o' the richteous airts to life:

The thrangness o' the wicked airts to sin.

17.

Wha gangs by guid advisins, hauds on the richt gate:

Wha gecks at repruif, waun'ers frae the straucht road.

18.

Whae'er hides his ill-wull aneth a pretence o' guidwull, is a leear:

An' whae'er keeps himsel thrang clypin clashes, is naething but a coof.

19.

Whaur there's a brattlin blether o' words, some o' them are like to be ill;

Sae the man wi' a pickle sense taks care to keep a steek in his crack.

20.

The crack o' the richteous is like siller--the very wale o't;

But that o' the wicked is no worth a broon bawbee.

21.

The crack o' the richteous feeds an' fen's mony a life;

But silly sumphs dee for want o' guid understaun'in.

22.

The blessin o' the Lord maks the puirest body bien,

An' there's nae back-draw o' dowieness gangs alang wi't.

23.

A fule thinks it's daffin to mell wi' the wrang:

An', to the man o' the richt stamp,

Sic-like is the sairch eftir wisdom--

It's the brawest pleesur' o' ony!

24.

What the wicked are frichtit for,

Upon the wicked that'll fa':

What the richteous hae ettl't,

That'll come their gate in the lang-run.

25.

Whan the din o' the blast has gane by,

The biggins o' the wicked are blawn clean oot o' sicht;

But tak a skance o' the haudens o' the richteous--

They're foondit on a rock for evermair.

26.

Like vinegar seepin aboot the teeth,

An' like reek nippin in the een,

Sae is the lazy, feckless loon

To a' the neibour-folk,

Wha lippen him wi' ony erran'.

27.

The fear o' the Lord pits an eik to the days o' a man's life;

But the years o' the ill-daein 'll be clippit doon.

28.

The houp o' the richteous is aye blythesome;

But the houp o' the wicked 'll get a black begunk.

29.

To the upnicht, the wey o' the Lord is like the bield o' a castle; -

But to a' wha troke wi' wrang, it's like a castle tummlin on the tap o' them.

30.

Sic-like as dae guid 'll ne'er be cowpit ower;

But sic-like as dae ill maun be soopit awa oot o' a' kennin.

31.

The mooth o' the richteous speaks cannily what's wyse;

But the tongue o' the ill-doers 'll be sneckit aff.

32.

The guid at hairt aye ken the nicht word to say:

The ill at hairt are aye pitten in their tongue whaur they shouldna.

Verse 1.

TROKIN wi' fause bauks is a thing that the Lord abominates;

But he thinks muckle o' straucht dailin wi' fair wechts.

2.

Whaur there's pride, there's a dunnerin doon-come no far awa;

But the lown-hairtit are cantie neibours wi' wisdom.

3.

The straucht-forrit gangin o' the upricht uphauds them ilka day;

But the crookit gangin o' the ill-daein 'll whummie them to discomfishment.

4.

In the unco day o' jidgment, gear canna dae ocht for onybody;

But richteousness can uphaud a man, e'en fornent daith itsel.

5.

The guidness o' the upricht airts him forrit on the richt gate;

But the wicked 'll ding ower his ain feet by his ain wrang.

6.

The richteousness o' the richteous 'll bield them against ony blast;

But sic-like as troke wi' jookrie-pawkrie 'll be gruppit in the girns o' their ain mischieff.

7.

Whan a wicked man dees, a' his expeckins are whumml't doon alang wi' him,

An' a' the houps, that he biggit on his cheaterie, are cuisten amang the glaur.

8.

The richteous man is ta'en Hame frae a' the warld's cark an' care;

An', maybe, anither, wha's a hantle frae bein' what he ocht to be, steps intil his shoon.

9.

The godless man thinks naething o' broizlin his neibour wi' his clashes;

But the godly, by guid sense, 'll haud aff ony sic unneibourliness.

10.

Whan things gang wee! wi' the nichteous, the hale toon's the blyther for't;

An' whan the wicked are cowpit ower, it's weel-worth a graun' hullaballoo.

11.

By the blessin o' the upricht, the hale toon is uncolie upliftit;

But it's sair cuisten doon, whan the ill tongue o' the wicked gets free wagglin.

12.

The man wha lichtlies his neibour, lats a'body ken that he's a gowk himsel;

But the man o' guid understaun'in aye keeps a lown tongue within his chafts.

13.

Wha raiks aboot as a clishmaclaiver 'll be blabbin what he has nae business to tell;

But the man o' the leal hairt 'll clap his thoom on what he can.

14.

Whaur there's nae cannie coonsel, the guid o' the lave fa's a' sindry;

But whaur there's routh o' wyse coonsellors, things gang forrit wi' a birr.

15.

Wha comes-guid for ony gangrel, 'll suffer weel for't:

Wha'll hae nocht to dae wi' comin—guid for onybody, taks the best care o' himsel.

16.

A douce wumman hauds up her guid name:

An' men o' smeddum haud on by their hainins.

17.

The man that's mercifu' daes weel by his ain saul;

But, gin a carl be canker't an' cruel,

He'se get his ain skin tichtlie het for him sune or syne.

i8.

An ill-daein craitur haunles till him the wages o' deceiverie;

But the man that saws richteousness gets a shair crap.

19.

Wha hauds siccarlie by the richt, speels up to life:

Wha hunts eftir the wrang, hunts himsel to daith.

20.

Wi' folk that wark by smachrie tricks, the Lord 'll hae nocht to dae ava;

But He taks unco delicht in sic-like as gang forrit on the straucht.

21.

Collogue wi' ane anither as they like, ill-doers 'll dree their ain skaith;

But the kith an' kin o' a' that are weel-daein 'll be happit oot o' hairm's wey.

22.

Like a gowden jewel

On the grunzie o' a soo,

Sae is a bonnie wumman wantin sense.

23.

The richteous ettle naething but what's guid:

The wicked hae naething to look forrit till, but what'll bedunner themsels.

24.

There's siccan a thing as this--

Gi'ein awa wi' an open loof,

An' yet haein mair:

An' there's siccan a thing as this--

Grabbin an' haudin ayont what's richt,

An' yet haein less.

25.

Whae'er gies awa wi' an open loof, 'll be kent by a' as a gausie chiel;

An' whae'er slockens the drouth o' ithers, 'll be slocken't whan he's drouthie himsel.

26.

The man wha hauds back the corn, whan feedin's scrimp,deserves the ban o' the lave;

But blessins, an' mony o' them, 'll be heapit on him wha taks't to the merket.

27.

Wha sairches eidently for the guid, is sairchin for his ain guid;

But wha sairches for the wrang, my certes! but he'll ken aboot it.

28.

Wha lippens a'thing to his gear 'll get a black begunk;

But the richteous 'll be growthie like the leaves o' the spring.

29.

The man wha brings tribble on his ain hoose, brings the sairest stunt he'll ever ken;

An' he wha plays the fule, 'll hae to play saicond fiddle to the man o' sense.

30.

Wha hauds by the richt, growes like a tree:

Wha gangs the gate o' the guid, wins sauls to the same airt.

31.

Tak tent to this:--

The richteous 'll get their hansel e'en in this warld:

An' naething can be shairer--

Sae wull the glaikit an' the ill-daein',

Verse 1.

WHA walcomes guid advisins, walcomes mair richt-kennins:

Wha birses up against cannie correckins, has nae mair gumption than a brute-beast.

2.

A guid man 'll be happit in the guid-wull o' the Lord Himsel;

But ony man o' wrangsome deceiverie maun dree His jidgment.

3.

Nae man need houp to bigg himsel up on wrang-daein:

An' there's nae poo'er on the yirth can ding ower the foond o' the richteous.

4.

A douce wumman is the croon o' her guid-man;

But the wife that affronts him pushions his ben-maist peace.

5.

The thochts o' the richteous are straucht-forrit;

But the coonsels o' the wicked ettle jookrie-pawkrie.

6.

The cracks o' the ill-daein, wi' ane anither, are anent the herryin o' the hairmless;

But the cracks o' the upricht 'll uphaud themsels through thick an' thin.

7.

Gie the wicked jist a wee bit jundie, an' they're clean cowpit ower;

But the hauden o' the richteous 'll staun siccarlie against mony a dirlin blast.

8.

The mair sense a man may hae, the mair he'll be thocht o';

But gin he taks a crookit gate he'll tyne a' respeck.

9.

Ony man, wi' nane but a bit orra servitor aboot him, may no be muckle thocht o';

But he's a hantle better than the neibour, wha strunts wi' pride, but hasna a nirl o' bannock aboot the hoose.

10.

A guid man taks a tentie care e'en ower his brute-beast;

But the saftest haunlins o' the wicked are snarre an' snell.

11.

Wha keeps himsel thrang on the laun', 'll ne'er be fash't wi' a scrimp girnal;

But he wha traiks wi' the glaikit is a gumptionless coof.

12.

The wicked mak a croose fraca ower the ploys o' ill-daein;

But dinna mistak yersel--

Gin ye want to see the brawest ootcome o' things,

Ye maun tak a skance at the growthieness o' the richteous.

13.

An ill-airtit word may sune sen' agley an ill-hairtit man;

But the guid are mair siccar, an' gang yont scart-free.

14.

Whan a man speaks the richt,

He has muckle content anent himsel:

An' ilka ane should ken this o't--

That, dae what a body likes, richt or wrang,

He'll get his hansel for't.

15.

"Ye needna lell me," says the fule; "I'm richt eneuch":

But the man o' sense glegly len's his lug to a' guid coonsel.

16.

Whan a fule gangs staiverin intil ony pliskie, a' the neibours sune hear tell o't;

But a man o' mense claps his thoom on the sairs that are trauchlin him warst.

17.

Wha hauds by the truth, uphauds richteousness:

Whas tongue is fause, cleeks wi' deceiverie.

18.

Thochtless words may cut like the swype o' a swurd;

But the cannie words o' the wyse are couthie an' halesome.

19.

Wha haud by the truth--

They'll be biggit on a shair foond for evermair:

Wha are gleg at leein--

They'll be soopit awa in a gliff.

20.

Cheaterie tirls at the hairt o' sic-like as troke wi' jookrie-pawkrie;

But blythesomeness 'll be the hansel o' ilka ane that ettles guid-wull.

2!.

Nae sair mischieff can befa' the richteous;

But the wicked 'll be chokit up wi' the ootcome o' their ain wrang.

22.

Folks that are gi'en to leein are dislikit oot-an-oot by the Lord;

But even-haundit, an' straucht-forrit dailin pleases Him uncolie.

23.

A douce man doesna brag aboot a' that he kens;

But a fule canna keep it hiddlins what a gowk he is.

24.

Sic-like as are eident at their wark 'll get the foreman's job;

But the thowless 'll be pey't by piece-wark.

25.

A sair hairt hauds a man sair doon;

But a bit blythe word gies him anither heize.

26.

The richteous pits a guid swatch o' life doon afore his neibour;

But the on-gaun o' the ill-daein gars a neibour gang agley.

27.

The lazy loon has naething for the denner-pat, for he couldna be fash't daein ocht to get onything;

But there's a hantle o' fine things sotterin by the ingle for the man that's aye thrang at the darg.

28.

Tak the airt o' richteousness,

An' ye'se get life, braw life:

Gang steively alang that gate,

An' there's nae daith to be dreidit ava.

Verse 1.

A DOUCE callan taks tent to his faither's advisins;

But a camsteerie loon 'll no tak a tellin.

2.

A guid man gethers a hairst o' guid by his ain guid crack;

But sic-like as speak deceivenie 'll gether a hairst o' hardship, that they've wrocht weel for.

3.

Wha gairds his tongue, gairds his life;

Wha kens-na hoo to keep his gab steekit,

Blethers to his ain discomfishment.

4.

The thowless are aye wheinge-wheingin for this thing or the tither,

An' canna come-at ony o' them;

But the man wha's eident at the darg,

Can get a wamefu' o' onything he taks a notion o'.

5.

A richteous man canna thole leein ava;

But a wicked craitur is scunnersome in his ainsel,

An', at the hinner-en', drees a waesome oot-gaun.

6.

Richteousncss fen's onybody wha gangs the straucht, honest gate;

But wickedness cowps the sinner heels-ower-heid.

7.

There's siccan a thing as this--

Gruppin at a' we can lay oor hauns on,

An' yet haein naething:

An' there's siccan a thing as this--

Gi'ein awa wi' an open loof,

An' yet haein a hantle.

8.

A rich man's gear may pey a ransom for his life;

But the puir man has the best o't ae wey--

He's ower puir for onybody to fash wi' him.

9.

The licht o' the nichteous learns blythesomelie;

But the caunle o' the wicked 'll be blawn oot.

10.

A prood, vauntie speerit is aye raisin rippets;

But the lown-hairtit wale the cannie gangins.

11.

The gear that's haurl't thegither by cheaterie 'll dwinnle awa some day;

But what's gether't by eident wark 'll syne growe mair.

12.

Houps that are putten aff an' aff,

Bring a dowie dwaum ower the hairt;

But whan we come-at what we socht,

Sirss! that's a graun' gliff o' life.

13.

Whae'er lichtlies the word o' heichest coonsel,

Draws the skaith doon on his ain croon;

But whae'er hauds on by the commauns,

He'll tak the gree.

14.

The wyse gang a gate o' their ain,

Whaur the springs o' life are ne'er drumlie,

An' it airts them oot-ower a' the girns,

That daith itsel wad set to sneck them.

15.

A guid understaun'in maks couthie leevin;

But sic-like as troke wi' jookrie-pawkrie--

'Deed, they'll fin' that they've ta'en a gey trauchie in haun.

16.

Ilka man o' mense redds his wey by kennin, deid-shair, what it is he's eftir;

But ony gowk strinkles his senselessness ower a' his on-gauns.

17.

Ony rinner o' an erran', that's ill-hairtit, 'll bring baith himsel an' ither folk intil a sair pliskie;

But ane that's leal, oot-through, keeps a'body conneckit as blythesome as ye like.

18.

Poortith an' shame befa' the feckless, wha'll tak coonsel frae naebody;

But the man wha can tak a tellin 'll win forrit amang the best o' them.

19.

There's muckle blythesomeness in gettin what we've been raxin for;

But there's nae end ava to the greinin an' the glaumin o' the glaikit.

20.

Gang the gate o' the wyse,

An' ye'se gang shares wi' their guid sense;

But gang wi' the gumptionless,

An' my certes! but ye'se get the gowk's crowdie.

21.

Dae as they like, sinners canna rin awa frae the oot-come o' their ain wrang;

But the richteous 'll get the braw hansel o' a' that's guid.

22.

A guid man leaves the best o' tochers to his bairns' bairns;

But the gear o' the ill-daein swees roun' to the richteous in the lang-run.

23.

Frae the warslin o' the puir folk wi' the laun',

Come muckle stackyairds an' routh o' vittles;

But ower aften they're spulyiet o' their share o't

By the grabbin o' wrangsome greed.

24.

The faither wha hauds aff the tawse

Hasna at hairt the weal o' his ain laddie;

For a bit skelpin, noos-an'-thans,

Whan he's weel-deservin o't,

Wad be the daein o' love,

Airtin him yont to what's nicht.

25.

The guid man 'll ne'er want a pickle meal in his girnal;

But the ill-daein, afore a's dune, is shair to fin' the grun' o' his stamack.

Verse 1.

ILKA wyse wumman uphauds her ain hoose;

But the wife that's wauff haurles doon her hauden wi' her ain hauns.

2.

The man o' an upricht wey o' leevin

Taks chairge o' himsel in the sicht o' the Lord;

But sic-like as airt themsels on wrangsome roads

Lichtlie a' that's guid.

3.

The mooths o' fules crooslie cairry a stick

That'll syne crunt their ain croons;

But men o' mense gaird their crack

Sae as to gaird their ain weal.

4.

Whan the kye are oot at the gress,

The byre's at its snoddest;

But, lat the byre be clean or clarty,

We're muckle behauden to the kye.

5.

A witness, wha's leal an' aefauld,

Wull be takin tentie care to sae nocht

That he kens to be lee-some;

But a dooble loon 'll be gaun threipin,

For onything or for naething ava,

As mony lees as his braith can skail.

6.

A lowse-tongued craitur may blether aboot wisdom--the thing he canna faddom;

But the man o' guid understaun'in comes at it brawlie.

7.

Gang in-ower, gin ye tak a thocht o't,

To hae a bit crack wi' a fule;

But ye'se no be lang o' kennin this--

That his crack's a gey fushionless kecklin.

8.

The ettlin o' a man o' gumption

Is to ken best hoo to airt his life;

But the silly trantles o' the senseless

Fankle their ain feet.

9.

The glaikit mak muckle daffin an' geckin ower wrang;

But amang the men o' upricht leevin, guid-wull aye cairries aff the gree.

10.

Ilka hairt kens best its ain wae;

An' nae fremit body need try to mell wi' its ain blythesomeness.

11.

The biggin o' fo1ks wha are deid-set on ill-daein 'll be cuisten to the grun';

But the hauden o' the upricht 'll staun siccar.

12.

There's siccan a thing as this--

A road that a body may tak unbekent,

Thinkin that it ettles richt eneuch;

But at the hinner-en' o't

Are the mirk, sliddry fit-pads,

Whaur daith itsel gangs rampin aboot.

13.

E'en in lauchin the hairt may be dowie;

An' ayont the lauchin the dowieness may be waur.

14.

The man wha swees his life the wrang gate,

Wull be chokit wi' his ain ill-daein;

But a guid man 'll gether, in a guid speerit,

A dale o' content anent himsel.

15.

The feckless tak in a' the crack that's gaun,

As gin it were true,

But the man o' gumption looks mair than ance

At the wey o' his gangins.

16.

The man that's wyse is the man that's fley't

At the sicht o' ocht that's sinfu',

An' hauds yont oot the gate o't;

But the fule flings heich his heid,

An' gangs on, cock-shair,

Like the fule he is.

17.

The man that taks a tirrivee, an' bleezes up at ony antrin trifle, bans himsel;

But ither folk 'll ban the man, wha trokes wi' dirty tricks o' cheaterie.

18.

The silly an' the droopit are to be peety't,

For their silliness aften comes aff their forebears;

But men o' mense set a croon on their ain lives,

By seekin oot the wale o' richt-kennins.

19.

Ill-daein folk, sune or syne, maun boo afore the guid:

An' warkers o' wrang maun staun oot o' the gate o' the godly.

20.

The puir man is nane ower weel likit,

E'en by his next-door neibour;

But sic-like as hae routh o' siller in their pooches

Aye hae a hantle o' friens.

21.

Wha lichtlies his neibour, daes a dooble wrang;

But wha keeps a saft hairt for the puir, maks a blythe hairt for himsel.

22.

Ay, ay! Divna they gang far agley,

Wha are thrang ettlin wrang?

But mercy an' truth 'll be the shair hansel

O' ilka ane wha ettles to dae richt.

23.

In a' wark, that's halesome wark,

There's a braw ootcome;

But claiverin here an' there, wi' the darg mislippent--

That's the straucht road to the puirhoose.

24.

Whan folk are wyse, their gear may be their croon;

But oot o' the fasherie o' fules--weel, what can be lookit for, hut fanks o' fulishness?

25.

A witness, wha's leal an' aefauld,

Lays the wyte on the richt shouthers;

But the ane wha taks to leein

Spins hanks o' mischieff for mony mair than himsel.

26.

In the fear o' the Lord, a man graiths himsel wi' suthfast stren'th;

An' his bairns 'll no be in want o' a lown howff, free frae skaith.

27.

The fear o' the Lord slockens a man's life like springs o' caller water,

An' mony a time uphauds his hairt frae the cauld grup o' daith.

28.

The king has the stoop o' his glorie in muckle croods o' folk;

But whan the croods dwinnle awa, eh! but he's sair cuisten doon.

29.

Tholin weel an' keepin the anger frae lowin,--

That's the pruif o' the steive man o' sense;

But lattin the temper bleeze up like tow,

At onything or at naething ava,--

That's the heicht o' senselessness.

30.

A stoot hairt heizes life alang wonnerfu';

But ill-wull cankers to the very bane.

31.

Whae'er herries the puir, misca's his Maker;

Whae'er gies awmous o' kindness to the needy, gies to Him.

32.

Whan days o' dule befa' the warkers o' ill,--

They're lounder't to the laighest;

But the guid hae a graun', couthie happin,

E'en whan daith itsel wad rax a haun on them.

33.

Wisdom bides far ben in the hairt o' the man o' guid understaun'in;

But onything in-by a fule, o' the kind o't, is shair to brattle oot.

34.

Richt-daein uphauds ony nation;

But wrang-daein 'll swirl't to the glaur.

35.

The guid-wull o' the king 'll glegly dawt the servitor wha haunles affairs wi' discreetness;

But he'll fleg wi' crabbitness him wha maks a hash o' the business.

Verse 1.

A CANNIE answer quaitens doon a dirdum;

But ony birsin up maks't dooble waur.

2.

A man wi' a wyse tongue in his heid is weel eneuch kent by his crack;

But the mooth o' fules maun aye be blether-bletherin.

3.

The een o' the Lord sairch ben intil ilka neuk,

An' naither richt nor wrang can be hiddlins to Him.

4.

A ceevil, halesome tongue is a biessin to a man's sel;

But lat his tongue be lowse an' loopie,

An' it may e'en brak his ain hairt yet.

5.

A gawkie callan gecks at his faither's correckins;

But the chiel wha taks them in guid pairt, aye gethers the mair sense.

6.

Whaur the richteous hae their haudens,

There's a hantle o' what's brawest an' best;

But the getherins o' sic-like as wark by wrang

Are shair to gether tribble.

7.

Wyse folk help mony mair than themsels

By the richt-kennins they hae waled;

But fules--'deed, they tak anither wey o't!

8.

Anent the offerin o' the wicked,— The Lord 'll hae nocht to dae wi't ava;

But the prayer o' the upricht pleases Him uncolie.

9.

The Lord abominates a'thegither the ongauns o' the wicked;

But He lo'es him abune the lave,

Wha warsles forrit eftir richteousness.

10.

There's a sair, sair correckin bein' laid-by

For the man wha taks the wrang gate

An' there's naething else for't,

But the road doon to the deid-mirk,

Gif a man 'll no tak a tellin.

11.

Baith the grave an' the ill-place are within the kennin o' the Lord;

An' muckle mair sae are the hairts o' the kith an' kin o' men.

12.

A man wha lauchs an' gecks at what's guid,

Doesna like to be checkit himsel:

There's nae fear o' him gaun in-ower

To hae an antrin crack wi' the sensible.

13.

A cantie hairt maks a cheerie face;

But dule an' wae drook the speerit wi' dowieness.

14.

A man o' mense is aye thrang ower the sairch for mair richt-kennins;

But fules ne'er get farer than stechin themsels wi' fulishness.

15.

A' the days are dowie whan there's dule in the hoose;

But the hairt that's cantie has a couthie time a' alang.

16.

Better wi' a hoose that's puir an' pookit,

Whaur there's the fear o' the Lord,

Than a hoose stappit fu' o' braw gear,

Whaur there's aye fasherie.

17.

Better a denner o' cresses,

Whaur ye get them wi' guid-wull,

Than a guzzle ower a hale coo,

Whaur ye're nane walcome.

18.

A crabbit body is aye steerin up a wheen mair bickerins;

But the man wi' the lown temper saves mony a rippet.

19.

The wey o' the lazy loon is border't wi' brammles;

But the gate o' the guid 'll be set on the croon o' the causey.

20.

A callan wi' a pickle gumption maks his faither rale prood o' him;

An' nane but a sumph wad think little o' his mither.

21.

To the man wha has nae sense, fulishness is a graun' ploy;

But the man o' mense hauds his gangins on the straucht.

22.

Whaur guid coonsel is awantin,

Things dinna come oot ocht weel;

But whaur there's routh o' wyse coonsellors,

Things are set up siccarlie.

23.

A body's rale weel pleased wi' himsel,

Whan he's been gleg wi' his answer;

An' the richt word at the richt meenit--

Man, but it's a guid thing!

24.

To sic-like as are wyse,

The wey o' life gangs aye forrit,

An' aye up;

An' the farer it gangs on,

The shairer it's reddin them

Frae the mirk o' the grave.

25.

The Lord 'll up-rute the hauden o' the upsettin;

But He'll mak things deid-siccar anent the belangins o' the weedow-wumman.

26.

Tricks o' cheaterie the Lord abominates a'thegither;

But couthie words o' kindness hae nae fleck on them ava.

27.

The body wha's glaumin an' grabbin wi' greed,

Soors a'thing aboot his ain hoose;

But it's the ither man,

Wha's greinin nane for aye get-gettin,

That kens what's the brawest life.

28.

The guid at hairt are unco cannie anent their answers;

But the mooth o' the wicked jaws ower wi' the skailins o' wrang.

29.

The Lord hauds far oot-ower frae the ill-daein;

But He's aye near-haun an' in-by,

To herken to the prayer o' the richteous.

30.

The licht o' the een maks a licht hairt:

An' guid news maks guid health.

31.

Wha herkens wi' a tentie lug to life's ain instruckins,

Bides in the wale o' company wi' the wyse amang men.

32.

The man wha'll tak nae correckin,

Has sma' regaird for his ain saul;

But the man wha's gleg at takin a tellin,

Gangs on getherin better sense.

33.

The fear o' the Lord is the best airtin to wisdom:

An' afore ye can speel the brae to honour,

Ye'se need a hum'le hairt.

Verse 1.

LAT a man tak tent to his ain hairt,

An' syne he can weel lippen to the Lord,

Whan he ettles to use his ain tongue.

2.

Ilka wey o' a man's ettlin is the richt gate,

By his ain thocht o't;

But the Lord Himsel 'll ken whether he's richt or no,

By sairchin the speerit o' him.

3.

Lippen a' yer warks to the Lord,

An' He'll straucht-oot for ye yer very thochts.

4.

The Lord has made ilka thing for an end o' its ain:

Ay! e'en the wicked for the unco day that's comin.

5.

Ilka ane that's vauntie at the hairt o' him,

Is uncolie dislikit by the Lord;

He may collogue wi' onybody he likes,

But he'll no jink the paikin that's waitin for him.

6.

By mercy an' by truth

What's wrang is soopit oot-ower a'thegither:

An' by the fear o' the Lord

Men airt themsels clean awa frae what's wrang.

7.

Whan a man's gangins are to the Lord's likins,

He gars the man's faes, nae less, gie him the lown side.

8.

Better wi' little, whaur there's richteousness,

Than wi' muckle, whaur it's fleckit wi' cheaterie.

9.

A man may ettle his ain wey in his ain hairt,

But it's the Lord Himsel wha airts his ilka fit-step.

10.

Whan the king gies his jidgment, he'll gie't as in the Lord's ain sicht:

An' what may come frae his mooth 'll be nane contrar to that.

11.

Hae yer bauks fair,

An' the Lord 'll ca' them His ain;

An' sae wi' the wechts,

An' the weeghin 'll be the Lord's wark.

12.

It's wrang, an' ower again wrang, for kings to mell wi' wicked pranks,

For naething but richteousness can uphaud a throne.

13.

Kings wha are worth the name o' kings, gie respeck to the richteous;

An' they lo'e, abune the lave, the man wha speaks true.

14.

The anger o' a king is like the on-ding o' daith itsel;

But a man o' cannie sense kens hoo to quaiten't doon.

15.

In the licht o' the king's coontenance there's the gliff o' life;

An' his guid-wull is like the saft, seepin rain eftir the seed's been sawn.

i6.

It's a hantle better to get wisdom than gowd:

'Deed, to get guid understaun'in is far abune claughts o' siller.

17.

The upricht airt their gangins oot-ower frae the wrang:

Wha hauds on the straucht gate saves his ain saul.

18.

Pride gangs afore a dunnerin doon-come;

An' a vauntie speerit afore a sossin tummle.

19.

It's better to be lown-hairtit alang wi' the puir,

Than to be gangin shares in wrang alang wi' the prood.

20.

Whae'er gies tentie thocht to the word that's guid--

That's the man wha'll fin' guid for himsel;

An' whae'er trysts wi' the Lord--

That's the man wha's aye maist blythesome.

21.

The wyse in hairt 'll be ca't the wyse by name:

An' by cannie, couthie crack, a man lairns muckle mair for his ain guid.

22.

Wha has guid understaun'in gets a waucht o' life at the spring-heid:

But, foment that, tak thocht o' this o't--

The schulin o' a fule maun a' be gotten oot o' his ain fulishness.

23.

The hairt o' a wyse man keeps his mooth weel instruckit,

An' graiths his lips wi' the braws o' richt-kennins.

24.

Words that are cannie an' couthie,

Are like a hinnie-kaim,

Sweet an' gustie to the saul,

An' guid health to the banes.

25.

There's siccan a thing as this--

A road that a body taks, unbekent,

Thinkin that it ettles richt eneuch;

But at the hinner-en' o't

Are the mirk, sliddry fit-pads,

Whaur daith itsel gangs rampin aboot.

26.

The craikin o' hunger wad gar onybody tak to the darg;

For the needs o' a man's mooth hae a fine wey o' tellin him--Ye maun.

27.

A glaikit craitur trokes wi' mischieff,

An' his crack kinnies mony a bleeze.

28.

A meddlesome body steers up mony a canglin:

An' a clishmaclaiver sinders the best o' friens.

29.

A loon that's camsteerie may man' to come-ower his neibour,

An' weise him awa intil airts that'll no be guid for him.

30.

Wha steeks his een is like to be ettlin ill:

Wha snecks his gab may be hatchin things o' mischieff.

31.

A grey heid's a croon o' glorie,

Whan ye see't gaun nod-noddlin alang the weys o' richteousness.

32.

Better the man o' the lown temper,

Than the upsettin neibour cockit in heich authoritie;

An' better the man wha rules weel his ainsel,

Than the neibour wha taks a hale toon aneth his chairge.

33.

Ye may cast kevils gin ye like,

But the Lord Himsel 'll settle the oots-an'-ins o' the hale maitter.

Verse 1.

BETTER wi' a nirl o' an auld bannock,

Whaur there's peace an' quaitness,

Than a hale hoosefu' o' galraivagin,

Whaur there's ill-wull.

2.

Effeirin to a servitor wha daes weel, hear this o't,--

He'll hap ower the heid o' a son wha daes ill;

An' whan the tocher comes a-dividin,

He'll gang shares alang wi' the brithers.

3.

There's a pat for takin the orts oot o' siller,

An' a scowtherin bleeze for the gowd;

But it's the Lord, nane less, wha haunles the hairts o' men.

4.

The man wha swees to ill-daein himsel,

Is gleg to herken to ony ill crack;

An' a leear 'll open his lug to onybody,

Wha'll waggle a tongue sic-like as his ain.

5.

Wha gecks at the puir, gecks at his Maker:

Wha lauchs ower the dule o' his neibour,

He'll get something to greet for himsel.

6.

The croon o' auld men is the bairns o' their bairns;

An' the glorie o' bairns is their faither.

7.

The flummeries o' the tongue befit-na a fule;

An' muckle less dae leein lips befit a prince.

8.

A braw praisent, to the ane that gets't,

Is like a glisterin jewel;

Turn't roun' aboot—this side an' that--

It glisters an' leams the mair.

9.

Wha claps his thoom on ither folks' bits o' mistaks,

Gets the hansel o' love;

Wha hairps, an' hairps on, anent them,

Dings sindry the best o' friens.

10.

A cannie repruif gangs deeper intil ane wi' guid understaun'in,

Than a hunder skelps intil a fule.

11.

Wi' ill jogglin at the hairt o' him,

A man eggs himsel to thrawartness;

But, anent that, he'll hae a veesitor some day,

Wha'll no haunle him cannie!

12.

Better lat a man meet a bear, gaun rampin aboot for her whalps,

Than meet a fule haiver-haiverin wi' nae gumption.

13.

Wha daes an ill turn for a guid ane dune to him,

May look for ill chasin himsel a' the days o' his life.

14.

Lat bickerin jist get a stert,

An' it's like the blash an' swirl o' water,

Whan ance a hole's been made;

Sae, gie ower yer argle-bargle

Afore ye get the length o' a rippet.

15.

Him that wad uphaud the wicked,

An' him that wad ding doon the richteous,--

Baith o' them the Lord abominates uncolie.

16.

Can ye tell me hoo it is,

That e'en a fule wad bode an' niffer for wisdom,

An' him the fule he's kent to be?

17.

A leal frien's aye leal;

An' yer brither's yer brither against the warst that may befa'.

18.

A man wi' nae feck o' sense is aye makin ramstam offers,

An' roarin, afore a'body, that he'll come-guid for onybody.

19.

Wha's keen on canglin, maun be keen on wrang-daein:

Wha cocks himsel ower heich, 'll come doon wi' a waur clash.

20.

The body that's meddlin an' forritsome 'll ne'er come to ony guid:

An' the craitur wi' an ill tongue maks mony sair pliskies for himsel.

21.

Wha gets a fulish laddie, gets a hantle o' grief wi' him;

An' the faither o' a thochtless callan ne'er kens a faither's blythesomeness.

22.

A cantie hairt's the best o' medicine;

But a dowie ane--eh! it's like pushion that bites to the bane.

23.

A man wha has nae conscience, cairries a bit bribe in his fecket-pooch

For weisin straucht jidgment awa frae the straucht.

24.

The man o' mense has his een in his heid,

An' he kens wisdom, see't whaur he likes;

But the een o' the fule gang stravaigin, hereawa-thereawa,

An' to nae guid ettlin, oot-ower a' the yirth.

25.

A thochtless laddie is a waesome trauchie to his faither,

An' mony a sair, sair hairt to his mither.

26.

It's an uncolie like thing to wrang a man for daein richt:

An' it's nae a wheet better to daud doon sic-like as uphaud what's guid.

27.

He's a man o' muckle sense,

Wha keeps his crack raither jimp than jawin:

An' as muckle can be said for him,

Wha cairries a lown temper.

28.

A fule, nae less, gin he only wad haud his tongue,

Wad get credit for haein some gumption:

Gin he only kent hoo to keep his gab steekit,

He micht e'en pass for a man wi' a pickle sense.

Verse 1.

THE man that'll hae naething to dae wi' his neibours,

Maun be eftir some sleekie ploy o' his ain

An' it'll be mair than a seeven days' wonner,

Gin he's been thrang seekin wisdom!

2.

A fule has nae brue o' guid understaun'in;

An', 'deed, that's hoo he lats ye ken that he's a fule.

3.