‘Scotch Poems’ from East Donegal in 1753
In the year 1753 a stout volume, entitled The Ulster Miscellany, was printed in Belfast. As the title suggests, this consisted of a number of items, including ‘A voyage to O’Brazeel, a sub-marine Island, lying west off the coast of Ireland’, but in many ways the most interesting section is a collection of verses, entitled ‘Scotch poems’. These nine poems were all written in the Laggan area of east Donegal. The authors were anonymous, and their collection of Ulster Scots verse represents the first substantial collection in print in that language, published before Robert Burns was born. As a native of that area of Donegal myself, this is a matter of some pride. The following verses illustrate the exasperation of a Laggan farmer at the tithe-gathering efforts of the local Established Church clergyman.
TIT for TAT; or the Rater rated. A new song, in Way of Dialogue, between a Laggen farmer and his Wife.
HE | Ye’re welcome hame, my Marg’y, Frae the grim craving clergy; How deeply did they charge ye, Wi’ fair oppressive tythe? While some are chous’d, and cheated; Some rattled are, and rated; Ye hae been better treated, I trow, ye luick sae blythe. |
SHE | I hae been wi’ the rector; His wife did scould and hector; Instead o’ a guid lecture — Quo’ she, ‘Ye go too fine, ‘With scarlet cloaks and bedgowns, ‘With velvet puggs and plaid-gowns, ‘With ruffled sleeves and headrounds, ‘More rich and gay than mine.’ ‘Forbear, proud madam Persian, ‘Take back ye’r ain aspersian, ‘Wi’ tea, ye’r chief diversion, ‘Ye waste ye’r time awa: ‘While dressing ye’re and pinning, I’ll spin, and bleach my linnen, ‘And wear my ain hands winning, ‘Ye rector’s lazy daw. ‘I rise e’er the cocks craw day; ‘My hands I spare not a’ day, ‘And wi’ my farmer laddie ‘At night I take my ease; ‘My husband plows and harrows, ‘He sows and reaps the farrows, ‘Shame fa’ them wad change marrows, For rector’s gown and chaise. ‘Sure some kind deel has brought us ‘Yon yellow chiel, that taught us ‘To cleek the tythe potatoes ‘Frae ilk a greedy gown! ‘Nae bishop, dean, or rector, ‘Nae vicar, curate, proctor, ‘Dare ettle now to doctor ‘Our skeedyines under ground. |
HE | Dear Madgie, e’en fairfaw ye! I’m blest that e’er I saw ye! A braid-claith coat I aw ye, Fac’d wi’ a velvet cape: May milk and meal ne’er fail ye, May loss of yews ne’er ail ye, But geer grow on ye daily, For birking madam Crape. |
The ‘yellow chiel’, mentioned above, was a lawyer, an enemy to the Established Church, who went by the name of ‘Yellow Rowan.’
‘Skeedyines’ means small potatoes.
Ronnie Adams
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Contents: Ullans: The Magazine for Ulster-Scots: Nummer 1 Spring 1993
