The House Leek
Author: John Stevenson
Date: 1993
Source: Ullans: The Magazine for Ulster-Scots: Nummer 1 Spring 1993
A wheen o’ wee cabbage sat down on my roof,
A wheen o’ wee cabbage sae hearty,
And said, when to pu’ them I stretch’d out my loof,
“Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.”
“I don’t want my roof to get bad and decay,
So git out,” says I to the party;
But the mother leek cried, as I shov’d them away,
“Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.”
She pu’d to the front a young slip o’ a leek,
The fattest wee brat o’ the party.
“Cud you bear to see tears on his innocent cheek?
Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
“Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.
“ ’Tis us that King David exalts in his Psalms—
Aye fat, and sappy, and hearty;
Ye wudn’t evict a puir wife and her lambs?
Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.
“King Solomon wrote o’ the plants on the wall;
He, the joodishus ould party;
And you, who’re as wise, wudn’t hurt us at all:
Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.”
And so, wi’ her blarney, she’s settled the case;
And says, when I threaten her party;
“Ye needn’t luk cross, for I know by your face,
Ye cudn’t now, Mr McCarty,
Ye wudn’t now, Mr. McCarty.”
From Pat M‘Carty, Farmer, of Antrim, His Rhymes, by John Stevenson, 1903.
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Contents: Ullans: The Magazine for Ulster-Scots: Nummer 1 Spring 1993