Brithers Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDB DDEDFD EDECDD EEGEDE EDHDDD IEDEDE EDCDHD HBJBKB DDDDJD LEMEHE

'Twas up at the tree near the heid o' the glenA
I keppit a tinkler chielB
The cauld wind whistled his auld duds throughC
He was waesomely doon at the heelB
But he made me free o' his companyD
For he kent that I wished him weelB
-
He lookit me fairly 'tween the eenD
He cam' o' an auncient clanD
He gae me gude day in a freendly wayE
While he spak me man to manD
Though my gibbles were a' for the human frameF
An' his for kettle an' panD
-
Ye're oot i' the warst that the weather can daeE
Ye're free o' the road like meD
I palmer aboot for kettles to clootE
Wi' an orra like weird to dreeC
An' oor job's to men' whativer'll men'D
Wi' luck to fix oor feeD
-
Brithers baith o' the auld high roadE
Yet the Deil hae General WadeE
For learnin's the shauchle instead o' the stepG
Wi' the weary wark o' his spadeE
Till the Jew an' the Sassenach lord it nooD
Owre the hills whaur the heroes gaedE
-
O gang ye East quo' I or WastE
Or whither awa' gang yeD
Will ye come to a hoose whaur a gude man bidesH
For a tastin' o' barley breeD
Ye can howk i' the kebbuck an' howk againD
As lang as there's kebbuck to preeD
-
Or seek ye a saxpence to slocken your droothI
Ye needna be langer in dootE
Ye can hae a bit hurl to help ye onD
An' I'll get ye a pan to clootE
I'se warrant I'll freely lat ye inD
An' as freely lat ye ootE
-
A tuft o' the broom was knotted wi' towE
An' a rag on't fluttered freeD
While he shook his heid owre some ferlies thereC
That I'm bathered if I could seeD
Though I kent my soul was sib to hisH
In a queer free masonryD
-
The wife's a mile on the road afore'sH
An' the bairnies farther stillB
I canna keep tryst wi' doctor folkJ
But I'll borrow the price o' a gillB
An' I'll pay ye back when we've finished oor tackK
O' a' that's gude an' illB
-
He spat on the siller an' pooched it syneD
An' quately winked an e'eD
The road's a bond that we canna denyD
An' its linkit you an' meD
In the kindly yoke o' the gaun about folkJ
Whauriver they chance to beD
-
On the bowl o's cutty he scartit a spunkL
An' he leggit it doon the windE
Gin his claes would hae fleggit a bubbly jockM
Guid Lord he'd an easy mindE
An' oor forebears maybe were near hand freen'sH
For a' that I can findE

David Rorie



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