Poetical Attempts: Preface
By Hugh Porter
Reader, since ye hae gie'n your five an' fi'ppence,
For this bit Beuk, that's no worth tippence;
Anither page or twa o' paper,
Wad make it aye leuk something cheaper;
At least mak mair o't for the money -
Say, shall I then impose't upon ye?
'Yes, if ye please, and after a'
'Five shillin' will be thrown awa.
'But stop - I think I have enough,
'I b'live owre muckle o' sic stuff;
'Yet, neither here nor there a leaf is,
'Come, gie's it in the way o' preface.
First then, I naething write by rule,
For o' the knowledge taught at school
Mine was a very scanty share,
I only learn'd the letters there:
Yet, by degrees, wi' tentie head,
At leisure hours I came to read;
And thus, by bit an' bit I grew
That I could write a little too,
A willin' mind a deal can do.
And secondly, plain truth to tell,
I made my sangs to please my sel',
My dearest worthy frien's, and ithers
No' just sae dear, but rhymin' brithers
To whom, just as they are, I sent them,
But never for the public meant them.
And thirdly, in the style appears
The accent o' my early years,
Which is nor Scotch nor English either,
But part o' baith mix'd up thegither:
Yet its the sort my neighbours use,
Wha think shoon prettier far than shoes.
But fourthly, for I'm keen to close -
'Do - do - ye'll say - an' do't in prose
'For flesh an' bluid can bear nae langer,
'This doggerel sang a saint would anger.'
Content am I, and for the Muse,
I'm sure she's glad to hear the news.
Then fourthly, as I said before,
(But whist - for I must rhyme no more)...
If I be guilty of plagerism, it is only where I am unable to distinguish between the imagination and memory.
